Soldier
by Whistling Willows
Summary: ACT I: Joining the Continental Army was not a rash decision. It was one thought out thoroughly since she first heard about this war. ACT II: The French Revolution, a complicated mess of politics where families lose children and husbands and prices are too high to pay. They are no exception. ACT III: Trying to recover from a war living within them is easier said than done.
1. Genevieve

**A/N: Before I start, this is NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE. I know Lafayette is already married and his wife is like a pretty cool icon in the French Revolution but LET'S PRETEND THAT DOESN'T EXIST :) Anyway, this might be a little OOC, I'm not quite used to how they act and such but I imagine them like energetic puppies of joy for now. Uh, also, warning that there is swearing and mature/suggestive themes.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Genevieve**

Genevieve Alcott didn't ask for much. She was a tavern owner's daughter, comfortable in her home. She wasn't happy taking care of her younger siblings - constantly making sure they wouldn't get sick and that their clothes were not threadbare - but she couldn't complain. She loved her siblings more than anything besides her father.

And she had tried to fade into the background as Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr and so many more took the spotlight. Genevieve tried courting various men of higher status so that the elevated wealth could help her siblings. Which would've been any sane woman's idea. After all, there was a war on their doorstep.

But after a particularly terrible time of courting a bland, sexist man, she realized that she could do anything a man could. She could be something better than just a trophy on a rich man's arm or a politician's wife, dropped into social gatherings left and right. She could be a woman who could help change the country they lived in. If anything, she could help change the country her siblings would grow up in - it was their future that would nurture with the new nation they'd build, free from the British reigns. They were at the back of the tavern near the supplies when she told her father of such. Of course, he was completely baffled of the idea.

"Genny," he tsked, "You are a sweet, beautiful woman. Why would you go to war when you can be safe on Philip Schuyler's land?" She didn't have the heart to argue with him. William Alcott, a kind man of forty odd years and a widower, just wanted what lived of his wife safe. Genevieve barely managed to not make up a witty retort. It was pure luck that the Schuyler's daughters had seen her once upon a time when a man had stepped just a few paces too close and had decided that this was a woman that they could befriend.

Especially since Genevieve was literally biting back at the man.

"Of course, Papa. Must be my imagination again." she said with a fake smile and he kissed her on the cheek. That was two years ago, when the beginnings of the war were stirring amongst the commoners. She had never brought it up again. Now, she merely worked at the tavern at nights and oversaw her siblings during the day.

"Shall I go pick up Bennett and Ettie?" She asked when she noted the time one day.

"Yes, yes. That'll be of great help, sweetheart." William replied as he went back to the front of the store. "Perhaps visit Schuyler's mansion as well. I saw a letter from Peggy." he added hopefully and she nodded. Bidding her father farewell, she exited through the back of the tavern and joined the main crowd shuffling down the street.

Merely staring straight ahead, she wrinkled her nose at a nearby horse's droppings. A man yelped when it splattered to the ground beside him and she barely managed to contain a laugh. Glancing at his wide brown eyes and freckled face, she preserved the memory for future laughs. Travelling quickly to the small school her siblings attended, she saw them running around in the field with their friends.

"Bennett! Ettie! Time to go!" She called and they peeked their heads up to look at their older sister. Running over to her, they embraced her tightly with a hug. "Ettie, you have a rip on your dress." She scolded lightly, not wanting to think about the sewing she'd have to do later. It was always such a tedious task - one that she felt abhorrently for. Harriet Alcott stuck out her bottom lip and tried to hide it in the other ruffles. "It's fine." she waved it off with a sigh - she'd rave about her frustration later to herself. "Go get your things. Father wants me to go visit the the Schuylers and as much as I love the grass stains on both of you, it really isn't fitting." She murmured, ruffling both of hairs. "And say goodbye to your friends,"

"Fine. I just hope John* isn't busy again." Bennett sniffed, turning on his heel and grabbing their youngest sister with them. Ettie giggled and ran after her brother. Her flaxen hair was falling loosely from its once elegant bun. The golden curls bounced by her cheeks as she scooped up her bags and books, Bennett doing the same as he helped his sister with a few of her books.

Their friends ran up to say goodbye and she clasped her hands in front of her, smiling fondly but with a tad of weight at the corners of the edges. Bennett was already turning twelve, Ettie being eleven in a few months. They relied on her - there were one too many times she was mistaken for their mother. None of them had remembered their mother as much as she had. Joanne Alcott had died in afterbirth of Ettie when Genevieve had been nine.

The brunette could remember the numerous times she had asked where her mother was and the broken look in her father's eyes when he had told her. "She isn't coming back, sweetheart. She is with God, and the angels." In a way, her brother and sister were lucky that they only had stories to match the woman she had called her mother - their favorite was most often about how they married at nineteen, falling so deeply in love that they had Genevieve only a year later. Apparently, she had been such a hassle that her parents waited until she was older to have more children.

The story, although told humorously over dinner, was rare even then. It hurt much more for her, ten times as much for her father. Swallowing, she sighed and closed her eyes. Her last promise to her dead mother had been to be there for her siblings. And here she was, eleven years later and still upholding it. Breathing in the smell of the wind, she could imagine her mother with her father, about to scold Ettie for tearing her dress just as she just did.

Ah, all in dreams. Blinking, she returned to the present as Ettie and Bennett began their way back to her.

" _Mademoiselle,_ " a voice to her right nearly made her jump but she managed to stave the feeling to. "You seem to be…" her head turned to see a man with dark skin and friendly brown eyes. His black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and his stubble neatly trimmed. "... deep in thought." He finished lamely and she forced a polite smile back at him.

"I was." She agreed, turning to face him. He bowed and offered a hand to her. Hesitating slightly, she placed her hand in his and he brushed his lips against her knuckles. His grip was soft, allowing her to pull away if she was uncomfortable. It was unlike the many men she she had the displeasure to meet - grabbing her hand in theirs roughly, unyielding so she couldn't escape. Bowing her head in a greeting, she allowed the smile to fade to one of her smaller, more genuine ones. By now, Ettie and Bennett were just a few metres away, watching the stranger warily but not aggressively.

They knew that their sister had spoken to many different men in the past. At least this one seemed kind. All had tried to court her but all failed. After a few moments with his lips pressed against her knuckles, he straightened and smiled. "Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, at your service." She blinked repeatedly at the ridiculously long name. "Many of my friends call me just Lafayette. And you? If it is not too much to ask for." Her hand fell away from his to grab a fistful of her dress. Sweeping into a curtsey, she bowed her head again.

"Genevieve Alcott."

.

"Yo, Laf!" John ran after Hercules and Lafayette with a panicked look. "That wasn't funny, guys." Lafayette drew his eyes away from the woman who had barely managed to contain her laughs as he walked around the horse with Hercules.

"It was, though." Lafayette smirked as John scrunched up his nose at them. Hercules was still howling with laughter.

"And all the ladies saw you too." Hercules added, trying to contain his laughs and failing. He nearly collapsed from laughing so hard as he ran out of breath. "Aw, man. That horse is my favorite horse."

"Not funny, guys!" John repeated, irritated. "I'm lucky it wasn't _on_ me."

" _Oui,_ you are." Lafayette drawled wryly as they continued down the street. Women and men alike were walking in and out of buildings, chatting amiably. They broke from the main street after a while, turning into an alley to take a shortcut - according to Hercules that is. "Anyway, I do not want to be associated with this fool when I pick up the beautiful women of America."

"If you can, that is." John retorted as they entered another main street and turned left.

"I am French. Of course I can." Hercules slung an arm around both of his friends and brought them together.

"Come on, boys. Can't we just get along?"

"No." They both chimed but resumed their languid pace to the park. Breaking free of the main crowd, the three of them found a cafe relatively close to the park to grab a bite to eat. Ordering quickly, they lounged back in the chairs under the shade of the overhang in the front of the cafe. John winked at the women sitting on the other side of the porch as Hercules took a sip of his tea. There was a school across a distance away, the children streaming out from the building. Lafayette smiled at their childish innocence.

"Someone catch your eye, Laf?" Hercules asked, settling down his tea and leaning forward. He lowered his voice and his eyes scanned for someone that might have snagged the Frenchman's attention. Lafayette shook his head, rubbing an itch away on his nose.

"No, just the children. They are very free." He felt a pang of nostalgia. Back in France, he had had tutors and governesses before his parents died. Never classes with other children his age. "It is good to see."

"Uh-huh," John drawled as he sent another smirk at the ladies. Lafayette rolled his eyes at the man's antics. A few children ran down the hills, chasing each other and screaming playfully. "I wanna see some action." He sighed as there was a sharp call.

"Bennett! Ettie! Time to go!" Lafayette's interest piqued when he saw the same woman who was laughing at John before. Now, he could see she was wearing a simple blue dress but it was beautiful on her.

"If you want to see some action, go get yourself some." Hercules snorted, taking another sip of his tea. "How many do you think he can get, Laf?" The man looked at his friend when there was no reply. "Laf?" Snapping out of it, the Frenchman looked at his friend dazedly. "Are you alright?"

" _Ça va._ "

"Has a certain pretty brunette caught your attention?" John sang excitedly and Lafayette groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oooooooooh."

"John!"

"What?" He asked innocently before smiling mischievously. "What about a bet?" Hercules looked interested at that. "Go, talk to her and drinks are on me tonight." The brunet pulled his friend up and pushed him in the way of the woman. "Go!" He resisted, planting his feet on the ground as Hercules got up too.

"Come on, Lafayette. You're so uptight." The bulkier man pushed harder and Lafayette yelped, tripping over his feet from the force. Barely managing to regain his balance, he glared at his friends over his shoulder.

" _Casse-toi,_ " he threw the insult over his shoulder but did go up to the woman. Swallowing his heart hammering in his throat, he approached the lady carefully. Her brown hair was pinned up into a braided bun and her green eyes revealed that she wasn't particularly paying attention. Sidling up to her, he glanced over his shoulder to see John and Hercules nearly jumping up and down in enthusiasm. Sighing, he debated on what to do.

Did he tap her on the shoulder? Just plain out speak to her? _Why did I agree? Merde._ Lafayette shook his head - might as well get it over with. " _Mademoiselle,_ " he made sure he didn't stumble over his words as she turned. "You seem to be…" Ringlets of hair framed her face as she pinned him down with narrowed eyes. His mouth went dry and anything he was about to say disappeared. Opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, he finally finished dumbly with, "... deep in thought."

"I was." She finally turned to completely face him, skirts swishing. Remembering his manners, he bowed with one hand behind his back and another offered to her. Her hand slipped into his after a moment and he kissed her knuckles. Nervously, he hoped his palms weren't as clammy as he thought they were and kept his grip loose in case she felt disgusted. The scent of new flowers and fresh wind ensnared his senses. He was scared he was taking too long to be appropriate but she didn't pull away until he pulled away first, and her hand fell away.

She was smiling. Although it was small, he appreciated that it was genuine, if he could hope. Giving her one of his own large smiles, he introduced himself. "Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, at your service." She blinked, stunned as most Americans were by his name. "Many of my friends call me just Lafayette. And you? If it is not too much to ask for." She curtseyed towards him, head bowed in proper etiquette.

"Genevieve Alcott." She replied as two children finally approached. The girl was almost a reflection of Genevieve except with her blonde hair. The boy had darker golden brown hair and brown eyes. _Must get it from their papa,_ Lafayette mused as they clutched onto the woman's bottom half of her body.

"Genevieve," he repeated, knowing he butchered her name. "Ah," he clicked his tongue as the young blonde giggled. "Genevieve _._ " The more he said it, the easier - the more beautiful - it was to say. The brunette placed a hand on either of her children's backs. "You have beautiful children." Immediately, color flooded her cheeks and he flushed as well, knowing he made a mistake.

"Oh! You've got it wrong," she chuckled awkwardly as did he, "they are my brother and sister. I am _not_ married."

"I apologize for my mistake," Lafayette murmured sincerely. He couldn't help the elation at the fact that she wasn't taken. Genevieve stared at him, not saying anything. Her lips were slightly parted as her brother tugged at her dress.

"Genny, we were going to Mr. Schuyler's, right?" Genevieve snapped out of it and blinked a few times before nodding.

"Right. It was nice meeting you, _monsieur_ Lafayette." Taking each child's hand in her own, she began to guide them away when he called after her.

"I hope we meet again!" She paused and he was afraid he was about to be reprimanded for being outspoken. When she turned around, however, there was a slight tug up at the corners of her lips.

"As do I." She tilted her head and looked at him for a few seconds. "Goodbye." Turning around again, she disappeared into the crowd. Feeling his heart hammering against his chest, he raised a hand to feel it.

It throbbed uncontrollably. " _Adieu."_ He whispered to the empty air. Her fragrance still remained and he paused to imprint it on his mind before returning back to his friends who were bursting with excitement.

"Lafayette!" they screamed as he came into hearing range. Many citizens looked at them before returning to their tasks as the two grown men tackled him to the ground.

" _Merde!_ Get off of me!" He yelled as John giggled, looking between Hercules and Lafayette. The other did the same, a devious expression on his face. "John, you are a dead man."

"If he's dead, who'll help you marry that woman?" Hercules pointed out and Lafayette blushed. "You are a lovestruck man."

"I - I just met her. We - I," he stumbled and John laughed again. "She's beautiful."

"Come on," Hercules got off his friend, dusting himself off. "John, get off him. Up you get." Pulling him up, he helped dust off the dirt. "We need a plan so you can see her again."

.

As her siblings changed, Genevieve sneaked into her father's room and took out simple tunics and pants that he had outgrown. They fit her well, as she knew from past experiences, and were able to be hid when she folded Ettie's torn dress over them. She'd need those for later.

Once Bennett and Ettie changed into clean clothes, Genevieve folded her sister's dress over her arm. Hopefully Eliza could fix it better than she could. The children ran down the stairs just as she hid the clothes. "Come on, kiss Papa goodbye and bring your work. Just because we aren't at home is no excuse to fall behind." She ordered and they nodded, going to the doorway that connected their home to the back of the tavern. Immediately, their father appeared, hugging his smaller children.

"If you have dinner at their place again, then I will not stay up for you. I'm getting old." Embracing his oldest child, he pulled back after a few moments. Kissing her father's cheek, she patted him on the arm.

"Of course, Papa." Genevieve promised as they began to leave. "If we come home early, I'll help around."

"You don't need to." He said but didn't put up any more protest about it. "Tell the Schuylers I say hello. Stay safe!"

"Alright, come on children." She made sure they had all their books and papers in their bags before placing a hand on each of their backs. They stuck close to her in the main crowd, not wanting to be lost. "Work first, alright?"

"Yes, Genny," they chorused and Ettie turned to hold onto her sister's hand.

"Will Peggy be there?" She asked and Genny thought of the youngest Schuyler. It was just after half past three so it was unpredictable. They could be sneaking downtown again or upstate in the library.

"Hopefully, sweetheart. Now, let's not dally." She ushered and they ran on ahead once they broke through the main crowd. Now they were mostly uptown and not many populated the streets. It was quiet aside from the few conversations and it left Genevieve to her thoughts. _Lafayette,_ she remembered the Frenchman earlier that day. He was kind, charming and good looking but yet, he was still flustered under her stare. Despite their short exchange of words, she wanted to see him again - what she said to him was sincere.

But that'd have such a low chance. For all she knew, he could be out of New York by now. Ignoring the disappointment in her heart, she continued up to the gates of the Schuyler house. Angelica, Eliza and Peggy were all lounging in the shade of a tree, reading books. "Hey!" She yelled and they all looked up, smiles spreading across their face.

"Genny!" They greeted, getting up and motioning for the servant to open the gates. Her sister ran into Peggy's arms while her brother ran up to Angelica and tugged at her arm.

"Where's John?"

"Inside. I'll take you to him, alright?" Angelica proposed and Bennett nodded. The oldest sister hugged the other oldest sister briefly before smiling. "I'll be right back."

"Behave, alright?" Bennett scrunched his nose up at his sister and began pulling Angelica to the mansion. Turning to Eliza and Peggy, she embraced the two as well. "How's your father? Mine sends his regards."

"Tell William we do as well." Eliza grinned and swept her arm to where the mansion. "Why don't we go in and I can fix that dress?" The brunette eyed the dress folded over her friend's arm with an amused glint. "Come on, Peggy, lead the way."

"I will!" Ettie stated proudly and Peggy rolled her eyes playfully. The blonde pulled the youngest Schuyler sister away at a run and she hitched up her skirt to follow. Eliza and Genevieve laughed at the pair and as soon as they were out of sight, Eliza's smile shrunk. Under the younger woman's look, Genevieve shifted the dress into her arms to reveal the men's clothes.

"Are the training grounds open?" There was a sigh and Eliza shook her head.

"Angelica can get them to leave. It's just a few of the soldiers training but they always do whatever she says." She said with a wink and Genevieve sighed in relief. "Genny, are you sure this is what you want to do? People die."

"I know, but this is what I want."

"They'll never accept you."

"They'll never know." She retorted as they walked up the path to the house. "Just keep my brother and sister busy." Eliza's hands clasped around hers and she stopped. Sad brown eyes met defiant green ones. The former pulled Genevieve into a short but tight hug. "I'm sorry, Eliza."

"Just be careful," the brunette whispered and they continued their way up again. This time, Eliza's arm was around Genevieve's waist and it was the same for the latter. The grip was tight, as if they'd never have enough time together.

 **A/N: First chapter finished. If I get positive reviews then I'll probably post more. Favorite, follow and review! Hope you enjoyed!**

 ***** " _ **Fine. I just hope John* isn't busy again."**_ **John Schuyler is the first son who lived to adulthood and fifth born if you don't count the other John Schuyler who died after one year.**


	2. Enlistment

**Chapter 2: Enlistment**

Genevieve finally got back from the Schuylers at around six and had taken a quick bath. Wringing out her hair and drying it, she tied it up into a knot as she put on a chemise and petticoat. Scrunching up her nose at the corset resting on her bed, she looked at her figure and frowned distastefully. It'd be hard to hide herself in the army with the form the corset shaped her to be. Muscle built up in her arms and legs but her waist was too trim and narrow. Hopefully the jackets would cover it.

Dressing herself to prevent a chill, she descended the stairs and found her siblings on that floor instead of their rooms. "I'm going to the tavern, alright? Find either me or Papa if you get hungry but there should be some fruits on the counter." She said tiredly. They acknowledged her words from where Bennett was helping Ettie with her maths. "Don't open the door for strangers." She added although it was an unnecessary warning before going through the connected doorway to the back of the tavern.

The tavern wasn't exactly busy. There were a few patrons here and there and she greeted her father. "How were the Schuylers?"

"Good. They send their warm wishes as well." She informed as she walked around the counter. The door opened and in came three men. They occupied a table, laughing boisterously as one of them waved a hand at one of her father's workers. It was a blond man around her age. Oliver Smith.

"A pint of Sam Adams, if it isn't too much to ask!" Her eyes scanned his face and she broke out into a smile. Going over to him, she narrowed her eyes at him in mirth.

"Well, if it isn't the man who stepped too close to a horse's ass." She smirked as the man blushed. Her eyes ran over the other two men at the table. One was a bulky man with dark skin but his brown eyes were cheerful and friendly. The other was…

Lafayette. Blinking, she stared at him to make sure it was really him. Yes, it was. She could faintly recall him wearing the same navy trench coat and white shirt. The defined cheekbones, hair pulled up into a ponytail, brown eyes. Of course it was him.

"Your Sam Adams - anything else?" Oliver asked with a curious glance at Genevieve.

"Genevieve," Lafayette stood immediately and made his way to her. "It is so good to see you again." He bowed deeply towards her and she allowed him to kiss her knuckles again. His lips stayed longer this time, not moving and she didn't mind. "Ma _chérie,_ " her cheeks flared and she knew that his friends were looking at her.

" _Monsieur_ Lafayette," she murmured and he finally straightened. This time, he didn't let go of her hand. The dark-skinned man at the table gestured to Oliver to come closer and whispered something in his ear. The blond nodded and left for more drinks. The Frenchman didn't know what to say next and he fumbled for words.

"Uh, I-"

"Two more pints," Oliver interrupted, putting down the mugs and dragging Genevieve away from the flustered _marquis_. "Well, then." He pulled her into the back and cocked an eyebrow. She crossed her arms and looked away. "You like him?" She could even hear the smile in his voice.

"Shut up, Ollie," she snapped. "It's not funny."

"No, it's not because you finally found someone. Can't you be satisfied with that?" He urged and she sighed, finally looking up at him. The brunette had met him when he was just fourteen, looking for work and had been her only male friend for six years.

"Maybe if the British wasn't on our shore." She said dryly. "Registration is open and I'm going no matter what."

"Then use my name, at least." Oliver had know her dreams since she'd first had them. His eyes were wide and sincere. Hugging her tightly, he let go when there was a loud yell. "Mulligan!" He yelled back, storming out of the back to see the black man on the table. "What did I say about the tables!" Genevieve stayed in the back, looking at the kegs of beer and other things such as bread and cured meat. _He's too kind._ The brunette mused sadly as she reappeared in the tavern. By now, Aaron Burr and another stranger were talking with the other three. Lafayette looked up at her and she ignored the way they seemed to glow with effortless care and sincerity. Helping clean up the counters and tables, she worked until the five of them began cheering way too loudly, leaving the tavern.

"Rowdy bunch, aren't they?" William remarked, "I hope your brother isn't like that when he's older, Genny."

"Well, it depends if you were like that when you were young, Papa." She murmured in response. More men trickled in as Genevieve made quick rounds to see if everyone was satisfied. Oliver tended to the bar while she weaved around the tables. After the clock struck ten, William was yawning already, the rush hour just meeting its climax. Not many came today. "Ollie and I can handle the shift if you're getting too tired. It's a slow day today." The brunette said and William ran a hand through his blond hair.

"Thank you, Genny," he muttered and went through the doorway of their house. Ollie made sure every patron was satisfied before joining his best friend at the bar with a pack of cards. They played to pass the time and by around twelve, guess who stumbled through the door again into the empty tavern?

That's right. Those four doofuses. Sighing, she pushed herself off from the corner and went over to the exhausted quadruplets. They were still 'whooping' and howling with excitement as they asked for a few drinks. "You know it is past twelve." She scolded them gently and the stranger she didn't know looked at her lazily. His brown eyes flickered over her figure - something she noticed - before smiling.

"Of course. I've seen you enough today that I suppose it's time to become acquaintances. John Laurens."

"Hercules Mulligan."

"Alexander Hamilton."

"Genevieve Alcott," she curtseyed, "What'll be?"

"Sam Adams, all around." John announced with a large smile, "and keep em coming." She ended up serving them another round as they lounged around on chairs, drunk and tired. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alexander raise a glass as the other three echoed his sentiments. They clinked glasses when John stood up suddenly.

"Raise a glass to freedom. Something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you." They gathered and she smiled at their camaraderie, despite only existing briefly, it was warming to the heart. Pouring herself a glass of water as well, she glanced at Ollie who had fallen asleep slouched. His head rested atop his hands on the bar counter and his whole body was lax.

"Raise a glass to freedom," she whispered to herself as they wrapped arms around each other and walking up to her to leave their mugs. Hercules, Alexander and John merely left it there but Lafayette braced himself against the counter, eyes unfocused. His three friends glanced at them giddily and flopped down on the chairs. She reached to take his cup but he grabbed her wrist, smiling widely.

"Lafayette?" She asked, confused when his hand left her wrist to touch her jaw gently.

" _Ma chérie,_ I will fight this war for you." It was something utterly sappy to say to her but she liked the thought nonetheless.

"I don't need someone to fight a war I can fight myself, _ma chérie._ " She teased although with a slight pang of guilt. There might not be a day where she'll see his face again. Despite their brief interactions - she barely knew the man - she knew that he was different. Maybe it was the French way. Ah, her French was still rusty and she cringed at the accent but he didn't seem to mind, stroking her jaw softly. The touch wasn't intrusive and she smiled softly, reaching up a hand to hold his wrist - not stopping the action but letting him know she knew what he was doing. "I fear this is goodbye."

"Beautiful women like you should not know pain, but obedience is not a virtue I believe in. Do whatever you want, _ma_ _chérie,_ but be warned that I will always protect you." He thought she was joking.

She was dead serious.

"Lafayette!" Hercules called and he flinched away. Genevieve didn't mind, knowing that it must've been awkward for her friends but was disappointed at the rush of cool air that replaced his warm hand. "We've gotta get home before we're robbed."

" _Bien sûr_. I will see you again. _Au revoir,_ " he mumbled and with one last, lingering glance, the four of them departed.

.

Genevieve woke at the break of dawn, taking out her dirty clothes from the day before's training and slipping into them instead of her usual corset and gowns. Tying up her hair, she hid them under a hat and sat at the desk in her bed. Writing letters to her father and siblings, she tucked them into a small chest before bringing out new paper and writing to the Schuylers.

Eliza, Penny, and Angelica each got their own letters while the two boys and the elder Philip Schuyler had two for the three of them. Finally, after about two hours of writing, she paused on the last few sheets. She debated writing to a man she barely knew, to one she had met only a day before but his mark could not be erased from her brain. He was handsome and well-mannered, but other than that, she knew nothing of him.

But she wanted to. So she said so in her letter, neat scrawl pouring down the page as she used up half of a second sheet as well. Signing it with practiced flourishes, she let the ink dry before sealing it with melted wax in an envelope. And so it got sealed with the rest of the letters in her little wooden box that was tucked away under her bed.

After she finished with her hand cramping and a few ink stains on her skin, she bounded her breasts not too tightly but tight enough. She neglected any makeup and made sure the clothing hid all her curves. Tiptoeing past her slumbering family members' rooms and out the door. The sun had risen but there were few people in the streets or square except for a few patriots. Clearing her throat once, twice, three times to make sure she could pass for just a young man's voice. There was no coming back from this. Then, going up to the patriots, she clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms so hard she was sure it'd draw blood.

"Excuse me, sirs." She muttered, voice breathy from the strain. Her head was bowed so they wouldn't be suspicious. She was already unlucky with no facial hair. "But can you point me to the enlistment?"

"How old are you, boy?" One of them asked gruffly but not unkindly. "This is a man's war."

"And I am a man at eighteen," she shot back, managing to maintain the rasping voice. "This is my war too." She chanced a glance up at them and they exchanged glances, speaking a silent conversation.

"To the post office, down the street. Careful, boy." The same patriot clapped him on the back and she nodded. Turning away, she tried to not run away but failed as she sprinted back up the lane and up to the post office. There, there were senior patriotic officers and she went up to them. Now, there really was no going back.

.

To be honest, Genevieve knew that the senior officer was suspicious but passed it anyway. She swallowed tears as she worked the last few days and spent time with the Schuylers, properly indulging in the love she had in her life. But today was the day of reckoning. Today, she had to go to the camp with other voluntary trainees and go through rigorous intensive training. Leaving a note on the table in her room that read what she'd done, she closed the door with a bag of all men's clothes she'd bought with some of her money the other day slung on her shoulder.

 _I've gone off, Papa. I enlisted for the Continental Army and I was accepted. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way but I couldn't bare to see the heartbreak on your face if I told you. At least this way, I know that you cannot stop me. Please, do not try to. This is my dream and I know that this is what I want. Papa, if you see the name Oliver Smith in the deaths of the patriots, know that it is I who holds that name. And if you do see that name, please check under my bed for letters I've written for you all. I love you so much and I'll pray every day to survive this and see you, and Ettie, and Bennett again. Do not tell anyone else where I've gone, especially the two. I don't want them to worry._

 _Your Genny_

"Goodbye, Ettie, Bennett, Papa," she whispered as she passed their rooms. Grabbing scissors from the kitchen drawer, she paused at the basin and reached up to touch the soft tendrils. She'd have to cut it shorter, at least where they barely brushed against her shoulders. Gathering it in one hand, she cleanly chopped it all off and burned it hastily in a little flare of a fire. Swallowing back tears, she thought of what would happen once her family woke. They'd look for her, go to the Schuylers but they wouldn't find her.

No, she'd be long gone by the time they woke.

No, she'd be in the army by the time they woke.

 **A/N: Thank you: RiseUpWiseUp and Mistyhallows of MoonTribe for following this story and RiseUpWiseUp for leaving a review and favorite! If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a review, follow, or favorite!**

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	3. Morristown

**Chapter 3: Morristown**

 _September 7, 1776_

She was stationed at Fort Amsterdam after six months of training. The men she bunked with barely ever spared her a glance. As long as she could shoot a gun, swing a sword, and run like hell, they didn't care about the unusual cracks in her voice or the too-large uniforms she wore. They were holding back the British weakly and when night fall, the battling ceased as they crowded around the fires. Normally, she sat near some of the more familiar bunk mates - the ones who she had shared a word or two with. But tonight, they were getting drunk to raise morale and she didn't want to partake in that in case she would slip.

So she sat nearly by herself, aching to see a familiar face. She couldn't count the times she felt regret for leaving her family and friends for this life. Blood was on her hands and she couldn't undo it. Genevieve lost herself in her thoughts, looking into the shitty food they served as rations before looking up. A man with a smooth ponytail followed by a bulkier, darker man crossed her vision and she did a double-take.

 _Alexander and Hercules!_ She thought excitedly, springing up with renewed energy and walking over to them. Despite her barely knowing them, at least it was something. By now, she had managed to get the voice down easier, holding the low tone long enough for a short conversation.

"Hamilton," she hissed and he looked at her quizzically. Hercules paused as well, staring at her.

"Sir?"

"You _are_ Alexander Hamilton, correct?" She asked carefully and he nodded, extending a hand. "Oliver Smith."

"Smith, this is my companion, Hercules Mulligan - now is there something you need or is it just pleasantries while everyone is getting drunk?" Taken aback, she shook her head.

"Where're you going?"

"The British are on the move. We're scouting their movements." Hercules inputted and Genevieve adjusted her jacket lapels. Nodding, she gestured to the direction they were going. "You coming?"

"Lead the way."

 _September 15, 1776_

A week after, they lost Fort Amsterdam. And Kips Bay, and the Battery. Hell, they were losing everywhere and had lost so many men that Genevieve thanked the Lord everyday that she was still alive. The British were taking control of Manhattan and New York too quickly for them to handle. They barely had enough rations to eat and many starved or deserted the army.

Finally, they had orders to rally to Harlem Heights. Genevieve marched beside Alexander and Hercules as they spotted George Washington's white horse gleaming amongst the battered and morale-low troops. "There he is," she growled out of exertion. Alexander's eyes lit up at the figure of authority out of respect.

"Halt!" Their sergeant yelled. "Camp!" Immediately, they dispersed into their duties to set up camp as the senior officers went to congregate near Washington.

"So much for 'hope'," Hercules mumbled dryly as they began to set up fires and tents. Genevieve shook her head and gritted her teeth, carrying the heavy rolls out of the wagon. Her muscles screamed out of exhaustion but she ignored it. "Alex,"

"Yeah?"

"Have I ever told you how much I fucking hate this?"

"Too many times." Genevieve and Alexander both grunted out their answers as night began to descend on them

 _August 28, 1777_

After a year of fighting with little victory but the Battle of Trenton among others in the sea of defeat, Genevieve felt the total effects of the war. By now, any fat she had left was replaced with lean muscle wrapped around her bones and her cheeks were sunken from lack of food. She was either constantly hungry or tired. However, when you were friends with Alexander Hamilton - the right hand man of George Washington - there were perks. The three of them tented together and she occasionally saw Aaron Burr too - although he rarely smiled.

"Lafayette and John are coming. They should be here in two days time." He announced one night and Genevieve immediately sat up without thinking. _Lafayette,_ she hadn't thought that name for more than a year. The mere idea of seeing him again… her heart was fluttering wildly in her chest as Alexander settled on his cot.

The two days couldn't come soon enough. The three of them welcomed the newcomers warmly as they rode their horses into camp. Once dismounted, they were escorted to George Washington's tent. Hercules retreated to their own tent with Genevieve and they waited, fiddling with quills and paper until Alexander pushed open the tent.

"Here are your other bunk mates," he was saying. Standing up, they held out hands to shake. John Laurens grasped her hand firmly, eyes searching her green ones.

"Oliver Smith." she enunciated carefully and shook his hand before he pulled away and Lafayette took his place. Her gaze scanned his face and she was shocked by how different he looked. Although still well and healthy, the life in his eyes was as if muted by a shadow.

"Lafayette," he said stoically and his eyes barely managed to lift to hers. " _Marquis_ _de_ Lafayette."

"Oliver Smith." She repeated and he just shook her hand loosely. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course." The Frenchman waved it off and settled down on the bunk in front of hers. "But it has been a long trip."

"Of course," Alexander leapt into their conversation again. "Go to sleep, Laf. We'll talk tomorrow morning, alright? Get some sleep, men. We travel again tomorrow morning."

 _January 2, 1780_

Genevieve's teeth chattered as she wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. Her green eyes narrowed against the cold wind that stung her eyes. Her gut was hollow with cold and her bones weak and brittle, aching to snap. Alexander urged her onward as she fiddled with the gun at her belt. How badly she wanted the warm embrace of death…

No. She promised she would return to her family if she could. And they were finally finding a city to be stationed in. Hopefully they could relax with the winter ball being hosted and maybe get some decent food. The brunette spat out any hair that flew into her dry mouth and she reached for the water skin in Alexander's hand. "Any left?" Her voice was nearly gone. He shook his head and her heart plummeted. Up ahead, Washington's horse plodded on ahead, carrying his owner weakly. The storm howled in her ears and she felt numb.

"Morristown!" Someone screamed up ahead but it was more like a whisper against the wind. Still, the two of them perked up and managed to trudge faster through the deep snow. Soldiers gathered at the crest of the hill and some were crying in joy. Washington was smiling wearily as he unsheathed his sword and pumped it into the air. Turning his horse around, he surveyed his troops, all battered, weary, and frostbitten.

"Men," he began, "we have reached salvation. We will dine tonight!" They roared in response and their general turned around again, leading the way down to the city. Alexander breathed out a laugh and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"We're going to be fine." He growled almost to himself as they made a breakthrough to the town. Choruses and cheers greeted them as many came out to see the famed George Washington and the Continental Army.

 _January 24, 1780_

"Smith," she raised her head when someone called her 'name'. It was John Laurens, someone she hadn't seen in years. "Thought it was you."

"We only met for a few days, sir, and even then it was three years ago." she stood and grasped his hand to shake it firmly. "It's uncommon to remember someone like that."

"Guess so," he shrugged and his mouth stretched into a grin, "but Alex said you've survived. Quite the persistent one, you are." She shrugged back and ignored the fact that she could count the ribs and how her cheeks were only just beginning to fill completely again. She ignored that her breasts practically ached all the time from their bondage. Genevieve never had the privacy or the time to free them. The periods where she could untie it and have them free lasted at five minutes where she needed to change the dirty clothes and put on her shirt.

"It's quite good to see your face again." Her eyes drifted over his shoulder as they let go only to see someone she hadn't _seen_ or _heard from_ in three years. When all thoughts of her family and the Schuylers were worn out, she had turned to him - fantasizing what he'd be like, what meeting him again would be like… "Excuse me." She murmured and John quirked an eyebrow at her as she brushed past him. Lafayette was speaking to an officer about some military tactics or other when she approached him. Then did she notice his own differences. A scar running horizontally just under his eye and the energy lacking in his eyes. Once they finished, she came closer and he turned to see her. For a moment, when his eyes met hers, there was a flash of life but then he looked away.

She knew that she still looked like a woman - at most, she could pass as a young teenaged man as how she was in the army, but more often than not her voice could convince them that she was a male. " _Monsieur_ Lafayette," she bowed and he sighed.

"Who are you?"

"Oliver Smith, we met briefly three years ago."

"Ah, of course." The _marquis_ smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. Her green eyes narrowed at him and he stared back. "Are you in Alex's company?"

"Yes. He speaks highly of you."

"Alexander is a good man. You are lucky to serve under him, _monsieur_. Until we meet again, Oliver Smith." Lafayette murmured and he turned around when Washington called him. Genevieve frowned at how lifeless the Frenchman was. She did not remember him that way back in New York. Shaking her head, she turned back to her tent, unaware of John Laurens' intuitive gaze.

 _February 2, 1780_

By now, they had set up an easy defense around Morristown. It was easy to defend against surprise attacks and strategically located. The winter wasn't dying down still but the storms had mostly faded away. She patrolled the streets frequently to pass the time and one day, she learned of something that gave her hope she hasn't had in a long time.

" _Did you hear the Schuyler sisters are going to attend the Winter's Ball?"_

The Winter's Ball. Essentially an event held to raise morale for everyone including the citizens. She had decided long ago that she'd attend as a soldier rather than a woman. Her hair was too short and the state of her figure wasn't something to be envious about. But then, when she had picked up that Eliza, Peggy, and Angelica were going to be there, she quickly walked over to the woman who had said as such.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said kindly. The woman wasn't afraid but wary. "Can you point me in the direction of where the Schuylers are currently staying? I just need to inform them of any security details about our current situation."

"Of course," the woman was none the wiser and gave directions politely to where her friends were. "We appreciate all you try and do," she said at the end, "truly."

"Thank you," tipping her hat towards the woman, she smiled and set off down the street. Watching a few children out in the cold, bundled up in warm clothes as they played in the snow, she just took her time and enjoyed that today was one of the warmer days. It snowed softly and the wind wasn't biting but merely swayed anything in its path gently.

Once she reached the address, she swallowed. She hadn't seen the sisters in four years. They would all be different by now as she was. They possibly might not even believe that she was Genevieve. Steeling her nerves, she climbed the steps and knocked on the door three solid times. The brunette wasn't sure if her hands were shaking from the cold or from the anticipation. A woman opened the door, her brown ringlets flying around her face as she kept it only a sliver open. The heat from the house escaped and she could feel it tingling at the edge of her fingers as Genevieve looked into the woman's sharp brown eyes.

Peggy…

"Yes?" For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the emotions flying through her. Nostalgia, pride, sadness, elation. "Is there something or someone you're looking for?"

"Ms. Schuyler," she began in her deeper voice, "may I come in? I'm here to inform you and your sisters of our current security situation." Might as well keep up the story until they were in private. Peggy nodded carefully and let her in with a wary aura. She heard a shift and knew that Peggy grabbed the parasol in case as a weapon.

"Peggy?" Eliza. That was definitely Eliza. "Who was it?"

"An officer. Can you bring Angelica as well?"

"Of course," the two of them appeared at the stairs, staring at the blue-jacketed soldier in their entrance hall. "Hello," Eliza was just as beautiful as she remembered. "Is there something you need?"

"Can we go to the dining room?" She requested and Peggy nodded, letting it fall back into its metal holder, leading the way as Eliza and Angelica descended the last of the steps. Brushing past Genevieve, the three sisters conversed quietly as they entered a large dining room. They walked around the table to act as a barrier before leveling her with identical stares. "So… here I am." she used her normal voice, something she hadn't used in a long time. It sounded foreign to her and she cleared her throat.

"You're a woman?" Eliza asked in surprise and Angelica narrowed her eyes at the woman before her. Peggy raised a hand over her mouth as Genevieve removed the hat from her head and undid her hair. It sprung back into its usual lax curls.

"Yes and I haven't seen you three in a long time," she whispered in a reminiscent tone. "Do you know how my brother and sister are? And my father?"

"Genny?" Peggy inquired softly. The brunette nodded earnestly but the hard gaze in the sisters' eyes didn't let up. "No - the Genny we knew disappeared four years ago."

"Then let me prove it to you."

"What are your siblings' names?" Angelica leaned forward, hands planted on the dining table as Eliza drew back, unsure.

"Harriett and Bennett but everyone calls Harriett Ettie." Genevieve answered quickly. "My father is William Alcott, he's a widower - runs the tavern in Albany. I'm his oldest child, I look the most like my mother except I have my father's nose. That's what people who knew them say, anyway." The brunette sighed, glancing down at the floor. "It's me - see it in me that the truth is there. I'm sorry I left and I've prepared myself that you would not recognize me but-"

Peggy gasped and she ran around the table to hug the weary woman. "Is it truly you?"

"Yes." she said tiredly, burying her nose in the woman's hair. "After fours years, it is me."

"We thought you were dead." Angelica murmured as Eliza joined her sister to hug their long-lost friend. They broke apart when the oldest sister spoke. "Your father - he said you just left without a trace. We thought you were dead. You… you stupid fool!" The eldest Schuyler slapped Genevieve harshly before embracing her as well. "We never thought you'd do it." The green-eyed woman winced at the stinging slap and the bone crushing hugs but squeezed her friends back.

"We had our suspicions-"

"-but we never had anything to cement it."

"I'm alive. And I've missed you so much," she whispered and she realized that they were all crying. "Now," she sniffed, "can you please tell me how my family is doing?"

Her father still ran the tavern. He was still hopeful since he did not read her name in the papers. Her siblings focused on their studies and rarely talked anymore to anyone but her father. Genevieve felt a huge pang of guilt when she heard of such, it was her fault. After the first few months of her disappearance, Angelica told her that her father said something about how a Frenchman kept reappearing in hopes to see her. Every time, William had to turn away.

"Lafayette?" She whispered in wonder and they seemed to nod. "He was looking for me?"

"And you were never there," Angelica affirmed quietly. "Have you really been on the war front this whole time? Tell us, how did no one figure you out?"

And so she told stories of how she fought and killed, travelling through any weather as they suffered losses and how she could reload a gun faster than most. She told how they were here to hold down the fort and that they were staying at the Ford Mansion. She told how much hunger ate away at her, how she stayed hidden among the crowd of men - showing the bindings and undoing them - and how the war wasn't over yet. Once it was done, she was thoroughly tucked out Eliza offered a place to sleep for the night.

"It gives you some freedom you need and we can talk about the Winter's Ball. Maybe you should go with us, as a lady for a night." Genevieve settled down on the bed and looked at the middle Schuyler sister.

"I don't know."

"We insist. We'll get some gowns for you and maybe you'll see that Lafayette again," there was a twinkle in the woman's eyes and the brunette flushed.

"One night. Then I have to return to service," she murmured and laid down on the bed, immediately falling out of consciousness.

 _February 20, 1780_

"This is a bit much," she muttered as the seamstress helped her into the dress. The sisters laughed and she glanced at the low neckline and cream-white color. "I look like I'm to be married."

"Which you are," Peggy teased and she shot the sister a sour look, "to that beautiful Frenchman."

"Not funny, Peggy! I look like a fluffed up peacock." She bunched up the smooth fabric of the skirt in her hands as the seamstress backed away to admire her work. "This is _too much._ " She complained.

"This is the Winter's Ball, Genny. You need to have one night where everyone can see how truly beautiful you are. Besides, no one will miss you in the army," Eliza added when the seamstress left. "Look how beautiful that skirt is." The petticoat did layer beautifully against the woman's legs, ruffling under the gown. The bodice flaunted every curve she had regained since their restock and her hair was growing longer again.

"I seriously hate you guys."

"You love us." They chimed and she looked down at the dress again. The thought that maybe Lafayette would notice her made heat crawl up her neck. Her square jaw was defined by the low neckline and the light colors help bring out her eyes and dark hair. "You're both soldiers - you will click and see there is more than his looks." Peggy added quietly and Genevieve looked up.

"Thank you," she whispered sincerely and they embraced her again.

"You'll have thanked us when you dance with Lafayette." Eliza quipped and they all laughed, carefree. The war wasn't so bad after all.

 **A/N: The return of the Schuyler Sisters! Woohoo! Thank you Brackenfern, Dulharpa, Shadowrose96 and prydain for following, and to RiseUpWiseUp and Dulharpa for leaving a review! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and stay for more! :) Follow, favorite and review! I especially love communicating with y'all.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: I'm so happy that you're loving this chapter! I actually checked out your stories and I'M SO DAMN MAD THAT YOU DID WHAT I THOUGHT YOU WOULDN'T DO IN "AROUND FOR YOU". I don't think I can handle reading "Unimaginable" but I'll try because I'm that sad.** **SHAMELESS PLUG LIKE HOLY Y'ALL CHECK THIS WRITER OUT!**

 **Dulharpa: Gosh, I'm so happy that you like my writing and are actually encouraging me to write more. Mostly, fans are never that happy about an OC with a main character so I was super hesitant about posting this. But, thank you for leaving a review and I hope you keep reading as we proceed through the Revolution!**


	4. The Winter's Ball and the Battle

**Chapter 4: The Winter's Ball and the Battle of Brandywine**

 _February 24, 1780_

Genevieve descended the stairs with Eliza, Peggy and Angelica. Her feet in heels and feeling awkward, she nearly stumbled and clutched onto Peggy. Swallowing nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but was careful not to dislodge the elaborate twists of hair pinned up. Angelica was immediately swept away by a man, so was Peggy by John, leaving Eliza with Genevieve.

She knew that the Schuyler sisters were the envy of all. All equally beautiful, they were rich and charismatic and many wanted to wed them. Sighing, she followed Eliza through the crowd as Continental Army soldiers began to sweep through the crowd. She spotted Aaron Burr with Alexander and John, smiling at all the women they were surrounded by.

"Look, it's your future husband." Eliza hissed in her ear and Genevieve started. Turning to see where Eliza was pointing at, she saw a man wearing the navy jacket, ruffles at his neck and wearing a pristine vest, the black buttons done up. He was about to go up to Angelica when Alexander ran up to him and scared him off. Surprised, Lafayette backed away and retreated to the edge of the ballroom, a sour look on his face.

"Funny," she murmured back, not losing sight of him. "I'm going, I'm going," she added when Eliza pushed her in the direction. Knowing that her friend's eyes were full of mischief and amusement, she managed to push past the crowd and approach him. He spotted her and immediately came closer, bowing.

"Sir," she curtseyed as he kissed her hand.

" _Mademoiselle,_ " he straightened and she looked straight into his face, waiting for him to remember. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled widely. Her hand cupped his jaw, thumb tracing over the scar under his eye as his mouth fell open. "Genevieve, is it - is it really you? Genevieve," he repeated her name as if a mantra and took the hand that held his face and kissed her palm repeatedly. She pulled him into a hug and he wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around.

"Lafayette," she whispered and he pressed their foreheads together. She could've fallen in love with those eyes at that moment. "It's me - I swear, it's me." Her voice was shaky and he barely could contain himself, sweeping her into a dance. His movements were clumsy but she didn't mind, helping him get into the practice. She winced when he stepped on her foot more than once but smiled graciously.* "I'm so sorry," were the first words out of her mouth once they had settled into the rhythm.

" _Ma_ _chérie,_ just tell me where you've been all this time." He grumbled in a strained manner back and when she looked into his eyes, she realized that they were alight with life again. "Before I left for war, I confess, I looked for you everywhere."

"I'm sorry - I -" she stopped. There was nothing to say. She couldn't say she _didn't_ trust Lafayette but not to the point as she trusted the sisters. There was still the tiny chance he would turn her in. This war was what they both wanted to fight for and she wouldn't let him stop her. "I'm here now."

"And I'm glad for that," he said, a lapse of silence falling over the two. When they swept past his friends who cat-called, he rolled his eyes playfully. "Ignore my friends. They seem to forget that we are back in civilization where etiquette is something needed." She hummed thoughtfully at that, holding on tighter to his hands.

"The warfront and drawing room both require different skills," she quipped and he chuckled. "Did you bring them here to cause trouble or because it is true that the French need too _much_ company to have fun?"

"Right on two accounts," he replied although she already knew that. "Although, it seems I've found more pleasant company than they."

"Quite a compliment, _monsieur,_ " she teased and Lafayette grinned down at her before looking over her shoulder. She looked as well and saw John making wildly inappropriate gestures. Chuckling, she shook her head and twirled them closer to him. Breaking away from her partner briefly, she went over to him. "Don't forget about that horse, John," she pushed a finger into his chest and he flushed. "It is good to see you again," _even though I saw you yesterday._ She added in her mind.

"You too, Genny, if I may call you that." She nodded and they embraced quickly. "Strange, you strike me familiar to someone back in camp. Do you have any siblings in the army?"

"Bennett's too young, I'm sure." She murmured although by now, he was sixteen. "Must be your imagination, anyhow." A warm hand was on the small of her back and she looked to her right to see Lafayette smiling at her. It was not too low but still intimate as she leaned into his side.

"John," the French lieutenant gave a warning through the stare and she chuckled, placing a hand on his chest.

"My, my, jealous are we?" She sang and Lafayette rolled his eyes. "You could take me for another dance." she suggested and he took her hand. "Goodbye John!" The freckled man smiled and waved, returning to dance with Peggy. When he lead her through the crowd, Genevieve smiled foolishly to herself at the sight of the debonair on her arm. "What are you doing?" She asked, realizing he had grabbed her a glass of wine. It was dark, swishing in the crystalline glass. The flavors came in tides, overlapping each other on her tongue and she sighed at the well-aged alcohol. Turning to Lafayette, she raised her eyebrows as she watched him down it easily. "Does Merlot run in your veins?"

" _Oui,_ and it does for you I suppose." He replied and she raised her eyebrows. "Am I wrong to assume you're reckless?"

"Why?" She asked, voice barely managing to conceal her nervousness. This was her first glass of wine but by the stronger scent on his breath, she knew it was not his.

"You're wearing this kind of dress at an occasional like this. Men may think you're alone tonight." He whispered breathily against her ear and she chuckled in relief. Squeezing his arm, she rolled her eyes at his flirtatious comment. The two couldn't blame the alcohol though. By the look in his eye, he knew exactly what he was saying - the man was as sober as a judge.

"And I'm not?"

"Of course not. I promised years ago that I would always protect you and here I am." Surprised, she took another sip.

"I guess you are a man of your promises," she finished her wine quickly, setting it on a nearby server's tray and offered him her hand again. In the center of the ballroom was Angelica, glowing in her gown as Alexander shared a dance with her. The Schuyler was completely enraptured with the man. Frowning thoughtfully, she turned back to Lafayette.

"No one ever says Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette is a liar." He announced and she laughed as the band switched to a polonaise. She dragged him onto the dance floor and he attempted to lead into a waltz. She had one hand on his shoulder and another in his hand and she grinned at his attempt to lead them into a dance, his face a mask of concentration. After a few minutes of dipping and spinning, he decided that it was better off to just sway and step in timed movements lest he be too exhausted to dance longer. Plus, Genevieve wouldn't admit it but she was afraid he'd step on her feet again. She found it endearing that this soldier who knew how to fire a gun and command armies, could barely dance.

"That's because no one has the time to." She snorted and he laughed animatedly. So far, this war was both the best and worst thing she had decided to enlist in. The music ended and he broke away. Bowing again, he took her hand and placed a long-lasting kiss on her knuckles. When he straightened, she kissed him on the cheek chastely.

"Will I ever see you again?" He murmured and she looked away. The last time he had promised to do so, she had disappeared. "Or will I have fallen in love with a ghost?" Her heart seized at the tender, low note in his voice and she shook her head.

"You have not fallen in love with me," she whispered, "just who you imagine me to be. But, perhaps, if Fate gives us another chance…"

" _Bien. Adieu, ma_ _chérie._ " He pulled away and turned away. The crowds nearly swallowed him but she ran after him.

" _Attends!_ " She yelled and he paused. The French pierced his hearing and he spun around just as Genevieve launched herself into his arms. Her mouth landed on his and he kissed back with such passion, avoiding all the whoops and hollers of his friends and the many judging glares of other nobles. "I could not let you leave without doing that." She whispered and one of the hands on her back reached up and warmed the back of her neck as he gently pulled her down again. The taste of wine on his tongue mixed with hers and Genevieve swore she could have never replicate that taste again. His lips were soft, plush as they glided gently over hers and every sense was in overdrive. Her hearing was impeccable, every nerve ending was sending signals faster than a bullet and the only thing she had on her mind was _Lafayette._

" _Ma_ _chérie,_ " he breathed and she hugged him tightly around the neck. "Would it do any use to write?"

"Not where I will be," she murmured. "Just stay alive," she demanded and he nodded.

"I will," he promised, "but you have to be here when I return." Nodding, she felt him slip away from her grasp and disappear from sight.

 _March 15, 1780_

"Who are you writing to?" Genevieve asked, spotting Alexander hunched over and writing, the quill moving quicker than many could run. Tying her newly cut hair up, she saw Alexander blush. "God, is it your secret lover?" She peeked over and saw the name _Eliza._

"No, of course not." Alexander looked at his friend and she scoffed.

"Eliza Schuyler is your pen pal?" She snatched the letter and began at the top. " _The day before yesterday, my angel, I arrived here, but for the want of an opportunity could not write you sooner-"**_

"Stop!"

"Isn't that cute?" She teased and he tackled her for his letter. He grabbed it back and folded it. Grinning nefariously, she went to her own bed and sighed. "We have to get some sleep soon, anyways, Alexander."

"I know."

"Then why are you still writing? We need to get to Bound Brook by tomorrow night." She fluffed her pillow and turned on one side. The cot was hard against her hip and side but she ignored it and closed her eyes. The scratch of the quill kept her company in the night as she dreamed of her father, brother, and her sister.

 _September 11, 1780_

The fog was what doomed them. Genevieve knew that Washington thought they were still attacking Chadds Ford. As they trekked the Great Road from Kennett Square, the first shots of gunfire could be heard. Immediately, the battle commenced and muskets were raised to return fire. Genevieve swallowed whatever fear she had and gazed at the still-dark sky. Men fell all around her and she spotted Alexander charging into the fray, gun clutched to his chest. It was chaotic, redcoats bursting from the fog and she ran, hearing the bullets whizzing past her ears.

Pushing herself up onto the hill for the height advantage, she shot down the redcoats that chased her up the hill. When she finally saw no other men, she settled her gun down and just breathed, and for just a moment's peace, she took out her telescope, pulled it out and looked near Osbourne's Hill. It was a commanding position North of their army and could flank them easily. There were thousands of them, resting in their camp as they prepared to attack. Her eyes widened as she watched them in their camp. The troops would completely massacre them if she didn't reach any of the generals in time so she ran down again, the information needing to be reported back to Washington. Shooting down the redcoats in her way, she reloaded just as a British soldier leaped over a dead body and charged at her with a musket, a bayonet barely recognizable under the dirt and blood.

Turning around, she unsheathed her sword and parried his blow and pushed him away. They circled each other as she slashed and he blocked. It was a deadly dance with each lunge and retreat. She took a stab at his shoulder, he deflected it. He aimed for her neck, she ducked and pulled back. He feinted but she wasn't fool and swung as he stepped to his other side. It caught him in the shoulder and he grunted, shoving her away. His hand cupped his injured shoulder for a moment, realizing that she had drawn blood before steadying his musket.

The renewed blood lust in his eyes made her shake. He charged straight at her, nearly missing her neck as she ducked, ramming her shoulder into his gut. As he fell back, his bayonet pierced her arm and she winced. It scraped her, drawing blood and enough to weaken her arm. Cupping the wound, she tried to renew her vigor to fight but couldn't find the motivation as someone screamed, "Charge!" She looked away from the redcoat on the ground for a millisecond. _No, don't charge!_ She thought wordlessly.

That was her mistake. The redcoat pushed himself and lunged at her. When she looked back, it was nearly too late to redirect the sword so it glanced off her sword but she managed to, the clash of metal ringing in her ears more than the rapid fire of gunshots. Instead of her heart, the bayonet's sharp end dove through her forearm, lacerating the skin and leaving a jagged bloody gash from her wrist to her elbow. It was ugly, gushing out blood like a river. Screaming in pain, she felt herself collapse to her knees and stabbed in front of her, hearing the sick _swoosh_ as metal entered his body. Blinking repeatedly, she tried to ignore the pulsing blood running down her arm but every time she tried to move, white hot pain would blind her.

The life faded from his eyes and she pulled her sword out, clutching onto the gushing slash on her arm. Retreating, she ducked behind cover of a cannon. Gasping for breath, she felt tears prick at the side of her eyes. _Survive, must survive,_ was the only thought on her mind and she got up and tried to run forward back to where Washington's camp was. Stumbling to the dirt, she felt her arm flare in pain, gasping and moaning on her side. The dirt was in her wound now, and she could just imagine the flares of infection beginning to take hold.

"Smith!" _Alexander,_ she realized dully as her eyes began to close. Blackness edged her vision and she reached a hand to claw herself through the dirt. "Hey, you're gonna be okay." He barked in her ear. He wrapped something tightly around her arm despite her moans of pain, hauling her up and putting an arm around her. "Someone get a doctor!"

"Alexander," she coughed, tears flowing down her face from the pain, "need to see… the… Washington…" Her mind went blank and she was aware that she was plummeting to the ground as she opened her eyes again. Alexander managed to keep her up, gunfire still ringing in their ears.

"Come on, come on," he muttered and after what felt like years to her, the gunshots faded away as did the screams, instead replaced by the steadiness of his footsteps and the dragging of hers. "Smith, you still there?" He asked in her ear and her head lolled to the side with a half-conscious moan. The soldier was delirious. Cursing to himself, he hitched her over his shoulder, uncaring of the blood that stained his white vest as he made sure his jacket was still tied tightly around his arm.

Sprinting up to the camp, he screamed for the doctor and he poked his head out from the tent, "Get General Washington as well. Tell him it's more important that whatever he's doing right now,"***

"Right away," one of the men who had stayed behind nodded. Entering the medicinal tent, he laid the soldier on the cot who was now mumbling feverish words. Alexander stayed by the woman's side as the doctor brought out bundles of clothes and commanded a soldier for boiling water. More and more blood soaked through Alexander's jacket as she clenched her jaw, determined to stop the sobs in her throat as the doctor untied the jacket and she felt fresh, stinging air against her lacerated arm. He tsked when he saw the state of it.

"He's lost a lot of blood and the wound is much too dirty too treat-" the doctor began but Alexander slammed his fist on the cot.

"Try. You try and save this soldier's life or I will end yours." He growled lowly and the doctor nodded, grabbing a dry towel and prying the woman's mouth open. Stuffing it in, he made sure that if the woman did clench her teeth, it wouldn't damage herself, and he returned to the arm.

"Then you have to find something to cauterize this wound," the doctor fired back, "Anything - he will bleed out if we don't."

The soldier returned with a cauldron and the doctor nodded his thanks. He dipped the towel in hot water and with a final glance at Alexander, slowly inserted the towel into the wound.

Immediately, Genevieve's green eyes flew open and a scream tore from the back of her throat. The doctor swallowed and continued on as her whole body tensed, legs bending and feet pushing against the cot in an attempt to escape. Shock flooded her brain, causing her to sweat and blanche as Alexander had to restrain her. "Oliver, _hey!_ Calm down, we have to clean the wound, alright? Try and stay still," he ordered and grabbed onto her uninjured arm. One hand in hers, he watched as she gave him a wide-eyed, half-insane looking stare. "Are you sure that's the only way?" He added with a glance at the doctor. The doctor nodded. "Then do what you must."

The doctor turned around to tell one of his less injured soldiers to take a bayonet… he paused, looking at the feverish woman on the cot, pondering whether or not he should do this. But the look in Hamilton's eyes forbade the doctor from giving up so he continued his order to tell him to heat it in the fire. Tears traced clear trails down her cheeks as she felt a sob wrack her body.

Her hand squeezed his, fingernails digging into his flesh in panic and in pain. They were about to insert something burning into her? Alexander whispered something as if to comfort her - really, nothing could - as the tent flap opened to reveal George Washington in his glory. "What in God's name is going on?" He snapped and Alexander saluted. The doctor paused in his work before continuing. He was only one-third through the wound, the towel thoroughly soaked in blood and dirt as he switched cloths.

"Sir," Alexander began and Genevieve's mind cleared. This was her purpose. If she didn't say it now before she left this world… the revolution would die. Raising a clenched hand to her mouth, every muscle stiff and shaking, she clawed the towel out of her mouth and raised her head.

"General Washington, sir," she breathed weakly and Alexander returned to her bedside, taking the towel and propping her head up with his hand. The pain invaded her mind again and the doctor opened a bottle of brandy, pouring a generous amount into the glass as she struggled to form words. Her brain was a haze as the general came closer. "You need to tell your generals to retaliate…"

"Against?"

"The… the men c-camped on Osbourne's hill." A storm settled over the General's face and Genevieve pursued to explain, "I-I-I saw them with… my own eyes sir," she spat through gritted teeth. The doctor pried open her mouth and tipped the glass of brandy down her throat. Pouring another glass, he made her swallow again. She choked on the alcohol, letting it dribble down her chin. It was like fire down her throat and anything that could be heard faded away as the energy was sapped from her body. The alcohol seemed to work and everything dulled as the colors molded together. "Lafayette will…" her voice faded as the energy became a lost entity to her.

" _Find Sullivan and tell him to meet me immediately,_ " Washington seemed to order and Alexander responded with a muted 'yes, sir.' His face appeared in front of her again and he had a mask of grim determination. His mouth moved but she heard no words as her eyes slid to half-mast. The towel was shoved into her mouth and then the blazing inferno on her arm returned.

After an eternity, when the pain became muted because her brain simply couldn't take it, she raised her head dizzily. _Was it over? Why did he stop?_ But the doctor's back was towards her and when she saw him turn around and meet his eyes, they were shining with sympathy. In his hand was a flask and he took a strong hold of her wrist. Everything was in slow motion as he tipped the flask. Steeling her nerves, she thought it wouldn't be as bad as having something probe her insides.

She was wrong.

Instead, every nerve ending burned as he poured the alcohol into her wound. The signals were sent to her brain faster than she could comprehend as it continued to slosh around inside her gash to disinfect it. By the end of the ordeal, she wasn't sure if she was even conscious. She could recall the world fading in and out, blurry as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. But when the doctor didn't start sewing - when he didn't do anything - she knew she was conscious because she knew what came next. Cauterization. Crying through her gag, she screamed in protest and blinked as if to say _no._ She'd rather die, let her die...

"I'm sorry. But this," the doctor paused as a soldier came in with a bayonet, its metal glowing and she shrunk away from it. That was the very thing that was going to kill her - no, no, no. The horror caught a knot in her throat as he ignored whatever signal her eyes sent to him. Her shoulders shook with sobs and her throat felt bruised and tight, knots making it so difficult to breathe. _Who'd do this? Why? Let me die... let me die..._ she repeated hopelessly in her delusion. Helpless, she struggled away but he wouldn't let her and her energy was failing. Second by second, the blood loss sapped life from her. "I'm sorry." He repeated, "I have to stop this bleeding somehow."

It wasn't up for her to decide anyway. The doctor took it gingerly in her hands, asking the soldier to hold her still as he steadied her arm. Then he lowered the heated metal to her skin, the tip of it digging past her muscle and skin. The agonized screeches split the silence in the camp. Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut, clenching every muscle in her body as magma continued to poke and prod and burn away her body.

She screamed until her vocal chords could no longer form a single sound and she passed out. Either or, she couldn't tell when the blood soaked the right side of the cot and the dark wing of something akin to death clouded over her.

 **A/N: Hey, guys! The feedback from the last chapter was absolutely astonishing! Thank you all for reading this fic! Thank you: Bordeaux Lady, BriCat03, mayeevee and somewhere along that line for following and mayeevee for favoriting as well! Thank you all for giving me a chance to hopefully do justice to the Hamilton fandom!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **mayeevee: Aw, that's so sweet! I think they deserve to end up together too. Laf is such a dork.**

 **Guest: Thank you so much!**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: I hope you have a heart because I can't take poor Phillip being so sad LOL. Anyway, thank you for reviewing and reading!**

 ** _* She winced when he stepped on her foot more than once but smiled graciously._ Lafayette was known to be clumsy but more on that in future chapters**

 **** " _The day before yesterday, my angel, I arrived here, but for the want of an opportunity could not write you sooner-"_ This is taken from a letter wrote to Eliza on July 10, 1781. A bit of a discrepancy but it's still sweet.**

 ***** " _Tell him it's more important that whatever he's doing right now,"_ Alexander and Genevieve have served together for about four years. By then, he's trust her judgement whether or not she lies about what gender she is.**


	5. Home

**Chapter 5: Home**

 _September 14, 1780_

If someone were to ask Genevieve what she remembered after that day, she'd say that there was pain, definitely, and a lot of noise. A lot of bustling around her as her temperature spiked in a deadly fever. She'd say she remembered throwing up more than once and starving because she couldn't keep anything down. She'd say she remembered her muscles were alight with pain as they tried to rebuild the fibres. She could still remember the smell of infection as the doctor pressed the heated blade against her skin again in hopes that it'd fight the infection - burn it away, he said.

She'd say she remembered screaming again but it wasn't as powerful as before - her vocal chords were still healing too. But then there was a louder scream that overtook hers, the _chunk_ as a blade sheathed into flesh but she didn't know who it was.

She'd say she remembered the feeling of the fire that burned every single muscle in its path, every nerve and vessel that was cauterized shut to prevent her from dying - even though the thought of death was more comforting than the smell of burnt flesh.

She'd say that she had fever dreams - that she remembered the scent of Merlot and the feel of soft lips on hers; dreams of returning to her family.

And that she knew that her high, hot fevers persisted throughout the three days of her semi-consciousness; that the doctor considered putting her out of her misery but Alexander fought for her.

When she finally regained full consciousness that wasn't in a mad haze, it was in the dark of the night and her body jostled gently as the horse's rhythmic _clock_ of hooves paved against the dirt. Although she was awake, she couldn't move and when she tried, her stomach rebelled out of thirst and hunger while her arm blazed in pain from its confines in the cleanest cloth she believed they could find.

She smelt foul and she glanced around her, noting the other injured soldiers. When she saw Lafayette slumbering on the other side of the wagon, she felt her heart stop and constrict. How badly she wanted to reach him, hear his voice, could not be put into words. Her eyes closed again and in her mind, she heard a loud scream again, one that rattled her bones as the blade cut again. But she couldn't quite place what it was and, energy spent, she went out like a light.

 _September 20, 1780_

She could move now - her fever was going down. Alexander barely visited now that she was out of the woods but she remembered distinctly in her crucial stages that he was there. The infection still smelt like shit though. The doctor had just looked at her wound and tried to wash out any infection with alcohol - her pain tolerance was really building - when he had deemed that it was okay for a short walk in camp.

One morning, she woke up and decided to stretch her muscles so she moved around the camp, spotting many men with abdominal injuries from gunshots. In retrospect, she may have been the lucky ones. Sighing, she used her uninjured arm and rubbed at her eyes. "Smith!" She looked up at her 'name', and spotted a soldier smiling at her.

"Yes?"

"The General wants to see you." Nodding, she entered the grandest tent and saw that he was working in his books. Running a hand over the cloth that bandaged her right arm, she looked at the General. His dark gaze lightened when he saw her.

"Ah, Oliver Smith. Just the man I wanted to see,"

"Sir, did I do something wrong?"

"No, in fact. I've summoned you here to formerly thank you. Your warning saved many men that would have died." Nodding, she was unsure of what to say. "You're a good man, Smith. And you've certainly caught my eye. Lafayette was able to make use of the warning - the idiot boy got shot in the process though." Washington meant it as a tease but Genevieve felt her heart constrict at the fact. She tried not to let it show on her face but the General seemed to notice and offered a sympathetic close-lipped smile. "He's fine now. Anyway, continue performing with the outstanding reputation you have now and perhaps we will finally get paid by the Congress." The last sentence was said in a joke but she noted the bitter tone.

"Thank you, sir." She bowed and left the tent only to bump into another injured man. Pain flared in her muscles, seeping into her bone and she barely kept in a groan. He clutched his leg and grunted, glaring at whoever bumped into him. "I'm sorry," she immediately said in surprise and looked up into the man's face. "Lieutenant Lafayette! A thousand apologies,"

"No, I am sorry." He looked at her arm and he realized who she was. "You're Smith, _oui?_ " He muttered. "I hope you're better - everyone heard of your tremendous bravery. Saved many men and allowed me to make a rally point." He smiled but she focused on the way he clutched his leg - the one a bullet had been fired upon.

"Are you hurt?" She asked anyway, for a moment forgetting who she was. This was the man she wanted and she couldn't even let him know.

"Knocked from my horse only to be shot. I'm fine, _mon ami._ " He waved it off as it was nothing and flashed her a final smile before entering the tent. That was when she realized that it was him the screams belonged to as a knife dug the bullet out of his leg. Closing her eyes and swallowing painfully, she continued on her way, the images of Lafayette writhing on a cot in pain as sweat covered his brow in a sheen and the vision of a knife buried in his leg not quite leaving her mind.

 _September 30, 1780_

 _To a Oliver Smith,_

 _It is with great pleasure and elation do I invite you to my wedding on the 14th of December. As you know, your fellow soldier, Alexander Hamilton, and I have been courting for nearly a year and he has proposed to me. I obviously accepted._

 _I wouldn't be surprised if he had already told you as he had said he's been by your side for many years. He had neglected to tell you where you've been as he normally does so I have taken the liberty to writing to you myself._

 _How are you? Are you well? I do hope so much that you are and that you'll be able to attend our wedding. Many of Alex's friends will be invited including…_ _a certain someone._ Genevieve knew who her friend was talking about. _Funny, Eliza_ , she thought as she continued to read.

 _Anyway, not much has changed here. Your father was elated to know that I've heard from you but he is still keeping it from your brother and sister - why? I do not know. But they are invited too, so maybe then you will see them._

 _The wedding will be held at the Schuyler Mansion. I look forward to seeing you again in three months time. I love you so very much and miss you._

 _Yours,_

 _Eliza_

She re-read the letter before folding it and settling it beside her cot near her other things. Extinguishing the candle, she was about to bundle herself up in the blankets when she heard the tent flap open. Sitting up immediately, she glared at the shape known as Alexander.

"Why do I have to find out you're getting married from the woman herself?" She demanded exasperatedly and he jumped at least ten feet into the air in surprise. He smiled sheepishly, knowing he was in deep trouble. "Am I not your friend?" She added in a loud voice. "Alexander Hamilton, for shame!"

 _December 3, 1780_

They reached Albany quickly. They had managed to snag a few more horses along the way so as they camped just outside of Albany due to nightfall, she bit her lip nervously. Her arm had long since healed and she ran a hand over the waxy scar. It was about three centimetres at its widest and spanned from her wrist and jaggedly made its way to her elbow.

She could still remember the aching, burning pain. She didn't think she'd ever forget it.

"Sir, why couldn't we march the last few miles?" She asked, not confrontationally. George shook his head although he smiled at her eagerness.

"One more night, Smith." He consoled and she dug her boot into the dirt. The thin layer of frost dispersed under her actions. "How long since you've seen your family, soldier?"

"Four years, sir." She answered, keeping her eyes on the dirt floor. Washington was silent for a moment but when he spoke, she could hear the warmth in his voice.

"If you need to, really, see your family, I permit you use of one of our horses."

"Thank you, sir," she grinned excitedly and he laughed heartily.

"Prepare a horse for Smith!" He turned around to order one of the squires who nodded. Within moments, she was mounted on a chestnut steed with a pack behind the saddle of some of her items and she glanced at Washington. "I'll see you at the wedding, soldier."

"Your Excellency," she tipped her hat towards him as another _plod_ of hooves made them both look back. Lafayette atop a dun. The horse nickered at hers and they nudged noses. He pulled up beside the soldier and his leader with a smile. "Lafayette," she greeted. He smiled at her and she felt her heart skip a beat.

"I am seeing more and more of you every day, Oliver.* Are you heading down to Albany as well?"

"Yes," she nodded, "Why are you?"

"He wants to see the woman who has ensnared his heart." George inputted with a mischievous glance at the _marquis._ He blushed but did not deny it. "Stay safe, men. I want you in top shape because after the wedding-"

"It's back to business," they finished his sentence. "We know," Genevieve added as she gently tugged against the reins. "Goodbye, General." He waved them away and with a snap of the reins, she set her horse at a trot. Lafayette shared a few private words before catching up with her. They had a journey ahead of them.

"Did your arm heal well?" He asked out of politeness and she flexed and stretched her arm. Showing him the scar, he chuckled. His hand traced the pink skin and although it was a distant sensation, she still relished the feeling of his delicate fingers skimming across her arm. He pulled back and she flushed deeply, hoping the night and the shadow of her hat would cover her cheeks. "Many ladies will go crazy over that scar." She rolled her sleeve back down, feeling tingles prick at her scar but she tried to ignore it. There was a silence before he piped up again. "Why are you heading back to Albany?" Lafayette inquired and she threw a lazy look at him. "Is it too much to ask?" He asked teasingly.

"No. I'm just seeing my family. They have not seen me for more than four years." She told him and he made a sound of sympathy. "And I have someone waiting for me, I hope." The brunette added wearily. He seemed to not pay attention to the glance she shot him as he trained his eyes on the starlit sky.

"As do I. I have not seen her since the Winter's Ball but I have thought of her every day since." She swallowed thickly, this time, tracing the arch of his nose and his eyes.

"I'm sure she thought of you too," she whispered and he glanced at her.

"You are too kind." She nodded numbly. He snapped the reigns of his horse and guided his horse into a gallop. Gently nudging her horse's sides, she speeded after him and saw as he inhaled a lungful of cold wind. "You know," he said breathlessly, "this winter wind, it reminds me of her."

"How so?" She asked, genuinely confused. He chuckled freely as they rode down the hill.

"She is a free spirit. Talked about fighting this war." Nodding along, she looked at the white moon. It was in the middle of the sky, full and round and glowing luminously. "And your lover? What is she like?"

"She," she paused at the weird pronoun. How weird to call Lafayette, the debonair Frenchman, a 'she', "is very brave. Kind, charming. But we have not known each other for very long," she was careful on what to reveal. "I do not know where she is now as she can't write letters to me."

"That is unfortunate, _mon ami._ Perhaps she'll be in Albany if luck is on your side."

"Perhaps," she agreed as Lafayette looked at the scenery. His eyes were wide, reflecting the stars, lips slightly parted in wonder. He was beautiful and she would've kissed him if she could then.

.

"Where are you going?" Lafayette asked as they finally reached Albany. It was around two in the morning when they arrived and she sent the Frenchman a glance.

"Just to the tavern." The answer was vague - there were many in Albany and he nodded. "And you?"

"To visit an old friend - Hercules Mulligan before seeing the woman I love - that is, if she is here." He added and she nodded. They had dismounted their horses to give them a rest and he offered a hand to shake. Genevieve took it firmly and shook it before putting her hat back on, tucking the brown hair underneath. " _Au revoir, mon ami._ "

"See you soon, Lafayette." She agreed and mounted her horse again, fitting her feet through the stirrups and nudging the chestnut gently. The horse nickered and snorted softly and she patted the space between his ears. "I know, sweet, you're tired." She murmured, "I am, too." Going up the road past the post office, she felt a pang of nostalgia. She spent her childhood here, this is the place she remembered her mother. Just seeing the empty stores brought tears to her ears and her horse whinnied at the quietness.

Once they reached the tavern, she glanced at the building beside it. Her home. This was her home. A home she had left without looking back. Swallowing a knot in her throat, she dismounted and led her horse down an alley so no one would see him. "Stay." She whispered quietly, pressing a kiss to his velvety nose. Hopefully, he'd listen. The chestnut nudged her shoulder tiredly as she unloaded the pack from her steed's back. In the front pocket was the key to the house. Taking it in her fingers, she inhaled nervously.

Coming around to her home, she looked at the familiar mat in the front. The texture was rough and it was getting dirty. She'd always take it out to beat the dust off...

Taking several deep breaths, she inserted the key and twisted it. The door unlocked with a familiar _click._ "Hello?" she whispered as soon as she went in. The entrance hall was obviously dark and she explored the kitchen and living rooms. Everything was the same. There was a book bag that used to be hers full of maths work and books from the library and one that used to be Bennett's.

Feeling apprehension rise up in her, she climbed the stairs as quietly as she could. Her room's door was open, moonlight streaming into the hallway through the window near her bed. Her boots scuffed against the wood and it squeaked when she stepped on a wood panel. Wincing, she heard someone shuffle somewhere on the floor.

"Papa?" A young, but mature voice asked sleepily and she looked behind her over her right shoulder to see a oval-faced blonde, her green eyes blurry with sleep. Once she realized that it wasn't her father, the fourteen-year old's face scrunched up into something defensive. "Who are you?" She demanded and Genevieve smiled proudly at her sister's tone. It was commanding and defensive. Straightening the lapels of her Continental Army jacket, she straightened up. "Explain yourself or I will scream."

"Ettie-" she was about to explain when another two doors opened.

"Ettie, who on Earth are you talking to?" Bennett asked crossly, poking his head from his room but froze when he saw the stranger. "Get away from her!"

"Bennett!" William Alcott scolded, appearing from his room, holding a lamp as he crossed the hallway to put an arm protectively around his son. "Ettie, come here." The blonde slipped past the soldier and hugged the man's waist tightly. "Now, who are you? Who are you to come into my home?"

"Papa," Ettie whispered, scared. Bennett puffed out his chest, pushing his sister behind him and his father.

"I know how to fight! If you want to hurt her, you have to get through me." Overwhelmed, Genevieve didn't know what to say. Her little siblings were so grown up. They aged without her. Swallowing thickly, she let a watery smile cross her face.

"No need to fight," William murmured, voice hoarse. "Look at the jacket."

"The Continental Army," Ettie piped up and William raised the lamp above to try and squint at them. Genevieve nodded and backed towards the stairs. "Again, what are you doing in our home?" William, now quiet, let out a choked sound. When she met his eyes, she saw the understanding in his eyes. He knew. "Papa, are you alright?"

"Let us go to the kitchen." He suggested and she nodded, allowing them to watch her like hawks as she went down the stairs first. Finding matches, she lit many lamps, and slowly, her features were revealed. The navy blue of her tailcoat, the boots, the hat. The very picture of a Continental Army soldier.

Bennett was straight behind her and held the lamp for their father, settling it down on the kitchen table. "Now, explain yourself." She bowed her head, inhaling the familiar scent of _home_ and took off her hat. Brown hair still tied up in its ponytail fell and she turned around.

"I know," she began in her normal, unused voice, "that I don't deserve your forgiveness for what I've done. For leaving you the way I did." Tears stung at her eyes and she watched as understanding and tears flood their faces as well. William sniffed loudly and she pulled at the frill of the sleeve that poked out from her jacket. "But it was my dream and I have learned so much more out there than I did here. I did this for you."

"Oh," William wiped at his eyes, nearly collapsing as Bennett hugged Ettie tightly.

"And I have met George Washington and Lafayette and so many more who are trying to shape this nation into one you can be proud of. If you do not forgive me, at least take the country we are fighting for. We will - _I will_ make this right for you." She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and winced when she felt the scar stretch on her arm. Crying blatantly, she felt strong, thin arms wrap around her and laid her hands on Ettie's tiny shoulders.

"I missed you so much," Ettie cried and buried her face into her pants. Bennett followed after and her father wrapped them all in a hug. "Genny,"

"I've missed you every single day, sweetheart." William whispered in her ear, taking her by the arm and just staring into the worn face of his eldest daughter - the one who looked most like his wife. "Oh, thank God."

"I'm sorry," she whispered as if a mantra. "I'm sorry. I love you so much," she sighed into her father's shoulder, "and I've missed you every single day. I - I love you." She repeated and they just cried for who knows how long. Just indulged in the presence she had missed so much as Ettie broke away first, looking up at her older sister with new respect. Stroking her sister's cheek, she realized that Ettie was quite the pretty lady. Looking at her brother, she ruffled his hair and he pulled back to beam and her. Smiling tiredly, she brought them closer for a tight embrace again. "But I have to leave after Eliza's wedding. I'm not finished until the war ends. I'm sorry."

"Will you settle down with us in Albany then?" Ettie asked and Genevieve bit her lip. That depended on if she survived.

"Maybe, sweetling. Maybe," she murmured. "Don't tell anyone I'm in the army, alright?" Her eyes raised to look at her father, "Father,"

"I know." He hugged her tightly again as there was a loud neigh. They broke apart immediately and Genevieve's eyes widened. "Your horse?" She shushed them quietly and waited as there was a soft _thump_.

"She won't be here, Laf," someone said quietly and she realized it was Hercules. She hadn't heard the deep voice in so long. "There hasn't been a word since the Winter's Ball-"

"Then where else could she be, _mon ami?_ " Although normally a friendly title, the Frenchman spat it at his friend.

"The French soldier," her father murmured and he made the connection between his daughter and him. "He doesn't know, I suppose. He's been looking for you - before he went off to war."

"I know." she whispered, voice breaking, "I must hide." She broke away from them jerkily, running up the stairs as her siblings ran after her. "Go back to sleep - he mustn't know anything is amiss." She crouched down and hugged her sister one last time before gently urging her towards her room.

"I love you, Genny," Ettie whispered and she hesitated closing the door. "I don't want this to have all been a dream," Bennett paused from further up the hall with a slight frown. Down the stairs, the door shook from the knocks as their father went to answer. He sent a wary glance up the staircase.

"Ettie, don't be stupid. She'll be here when you wake up." Bennett assured but he sent his older sister an unsure glance as well. Genevieve smiled convincingly and nodded. The brunette straightened as Bennett continued, "And even if it was a dream, it'd be a pretty good one."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ettie murmured, hugging her sister one last time. "Can I at least stay with you tonight?"

"Of course." Bennett whispered as William opened the door. "Come here," he added and the blonde scampered towards her brother.

" _Monsieur_ Alcott, I'm sorry for intruding at this hour…" Genevieve snuck closer to Bennett who gazed at her.

"Who is that man?"

"Lafayette," her voice was low and Bennett leaned closer, clutching onto her tail coat as she slipped into his room. Her siblings followed after her and she let the door almost click shut. Only the sounds of their breathing filled the silence as they eavesdropped on the conversation.

"She isn't here, sir. She hasn't been here for years." Her father lied, "I told you before you went off to war - she disappeared and we haven't-"

"Please, sir." Lafayette begged and her heart throbbed under her chest. How badly she wanted to run down the stairs and hug him and never let go… to kiss away any tears and heal his wounds. She couldn't, she knew that, but that didn't stop the thoughts. Ettie murmured something sympathetic and she glanced at her younger sister.

"That poor man," she seemed to say.

"There's nothing I can do." The older sister whispered back as Hercules piped up.

"I told you, Laf," the man said although his voice wasn't unkind. "Man, I'm sorry." There was a moment of silence where Genevieve thought that he was gone but it turned out it was just William hugging Lafayette tightly.

"I miss her too, son." He murmured. Genevieve closed the door, unable to listen anymore. Her siblings on either side of her, the brunette pulled them into side hugs. Looking up at the ceiling, she sighed. Bennett, who was nearly her height now, rested his head on her shoulder and Ettie tucked into her side. The three of them stood quietly behind the door for a long time. There was much to do.

 **A/N: Woo! Eliza's wedding should be chapter 7. Next chapter is a lot of fluff so just be prepared because they're gonna start bonding a lot mostly because I want them to have some quality time before the war hits them again. Thank you: ThatRavenclawWitch for following, and RiseUpWiseUp and BriCat03 for reviewing! You guys mean the world to me when you take time to do this kinda stuff!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: I NEVER THOUGHT OF CUTTING HER ARM OFF. JEEZ, I HAVE A HEART. Do not die though for I have updated!**

 **BriCat03: I can't reveal the future ;) but don't worry, our couple's gonna have _some_ happy time before they go off to war again. Promise. Thank you for reviewing!**

 ** _* "I am seeing more and more of you every day, Oliver."_ Due to the multiple time skips, this sentence cements that Lafayette and 'Oliver' are past accomplices and more friends.**


	6. Kiss but Never Tell

**Chapter 6: Kiss but Never Tell**

 _December 5, 1780_

After recounting every single battle she could think of, showing off her scar to Bennett and even promising that she'll show him how to fire a gun if she could and Ettie that she could ride the chestnut horse, it was time again to dress in corsets and dresses. She opened her wardrobe to see all the whalebone clothing and silk dresses still hanging there in the condition she left them in. Tying the laces with practiced fingers, she frowned when she noted that she had to tie a little tighter than she was used to. It appeared she still had weight she needed to regain.

"There's someone at the door for you, Genny!" Ettie yelled and Genevieve opened the door from her room after looking at the box under her bed. It was still untouched and opened, gathering dust. Smoothing out the simple green dress, she walked down the hall.

"Coming," she replied and descended the steps. Glancing at her sleeve that only hid half of her scar, she tugged at it uselessly in case it was one of her father's clients. As she landed on the last step, someone tackled into her and she yelped. Looking into mirthful eyes, she realized who it was and hugged Oliver back. "Ollie!"

"Genny!" He yelled in her ear and she winced. Her smile grew and she let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, Jesus, I thought you'd never come home." He murmured and he got off of her, pulling the brunette up and into his arms again. He looked older, handsome. A band was on his left hand and she gasped, taking it for a closer inspection. It was, as she had guessed, a wedding band. "You've changed,"

"Says you." She quipped playfully. "Who's the lucky lady?"

"She's beautiful, smart - we had our first child last year." He explained in brief and she felt warmth gather in his chest. The man was happy, eyes crinkling at the edges from smiling. "And you? Where have you been on your travels, young lady?"

.

"Father, I'm going out!" She announced and William poked his head from the tavern. He nodded and smiled. Finishing the loose side braid, she tied it up and slung it over her right shoulder. Grabbing her coin purse, she made sure it was an adequate amount in case she got hungry while she was out.

"Make sure you-"

"-wear my coat. I'm not nine anymore." she replied good naturedly. She did indeed grab a jacket and gloves. Pulling her jacket on, she shoved her hands into the gloves before opening the door. "I'll be back by dinner time - I'm just heading to the tailor's." She called out and Bennett poked his head from the tavern and gave a thumbs up. He hauled a heavy sack over his shoulder and wiped at his brow.

"Hercules? Then can you see if he finished with my tunic for the wedding?" He asked and she scrunched up her nose playfully at him.

"Of course. Get back to work, Bennett." She scolded and opened the door just as he did so. Snowflakes dotted the ground and she stepped out, feeling the soft flakes catch in her hair and land on her skin. Smiling at the weather, she checked up on the chestnut stallion who nickered when he saw her. Patting his nose softly, she made sure he was out of the snow under the awning at the side of her house. "Hey, boy," He nudged her shoulder with his muzzle. "I'll see you later, alright? Maybe Ettie'll visit after school."

He neighed excitedly and she grinned. With one final pat, she turned to the main street and went down to the square. Children ran around a fountain as patriots enjoyed the warmer beginnings of winter. The smile didn't fade as she walked along with other women and men bustling from shop to shop. Spotting the shop she was looking for, she pushed open the door and heard the bell chime above her to signal her arrival.

"John, you said you'd bring Alex-" Hercules Mulligan broke off his sentence and nearly dropped the fabric he was holding when he saw who was standing in the middle of his shop. "You - you _are_ a ghost." He just managed to say.

"Hercules-"

"No, you know what?" He stalked around the counter and took her by the arms. Yelping when he tugged the waxy skin under her gloves, she tried to pull away. "You can't keep doing this to Lafayette, alright?" He roared in her face and she stared back at him blankly, "He is _in love with you,_ and you _are breaking him._ He came to your home last night, looking for you because he couldn't wait to see you. You show up at the wrong times - you _are a ghost._ So either you leave my best friend _the hell alone_ or you _stay here for him._ "

Shook, she merely stared up into his dark eyes. She bit her tongue, wanting to confess but knowing she couldn't. "Hercules-"

"No! Get _out_. Unless you're here to _apologize_ and _stay,_ you are leaving-"

"Hercules," a new voice murmured tiredly and her mind, still reeling, realized who it was. The two of them looked at the staircase where Lafayette was standing. His clothing was dishevelled as if he had just woken up but his eyes were alert. "Enough."

"Lafayette, this woman-"

"-is here now and I want to see her. Please." Hercules made a grunting sound, glowering at the woman who didn't shake under his glare. She lifted her chin and stared back until he scoffed and turned away. He clapped the Frenchman on the back and they shared words before the tailor disappeared in the back. Genevieve watched them, pulling off her gloves deftly.

Once they finished, Lafayette kept his eyes to the wood grain. She felt a pang of guilt. He couldn't even look at her. "Laf…" she began quietly but he didn't move. " _Lafayette,_ " the brunette choked out, taking a few steps towards him until he was within arm's length.

" _Ma_ _chérie,_ " his voice was low and hoarse. His mouth opened and closed until he raised his head. His dark eyes were murky with tears and her breath caught in her throat. Where words could not explain, actions did and she embraced him tightly. His arms stayed by his side as she pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart thudded against her ear and finally, arms wrapped around her waist and hands rested on her back. To be in his arms again set her aflame as they tightened around her. He pressed a kiss into her hair and it felt as if everything was as it should be.

There was no war looming over them, sweeping them both away to the same place yet unable to feel. Death was not around the corner as winter became frigid. Time would not rip them away from each other.

"Genevieve," he whispered her name softly and she squeezed his waist tightly. His chest rose and fell under her cheek and she timed her breaths with his. "Come with me to the wedding at least. Let me make every other man envious for one night - let me love you for one night." Raising her head, she stared into his wet eyes and a hand reached up to cup his jaw. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing as her thumb traced over the scar below his eye. His arms didn't falter around her and she inhaled his scent - of worn bed sheets and soap. Balancing on the balls of her feet, she fit her mouth to his, kissing him with all the passion she had bound up for so many months.

He immediately reciprocated, arms bringing her closer. Her mind was blissfully quiet, reminiscent of the muted snowy day just outside the windows. Lafayette pressed another starving kiss against her lips and she took a sharp intake of oxygen that stung her lungs but she didn't care. The pure euphoria of his plush mouth against hers; the way their bodies just _fit_ ; his hand tangled in her hair as his other held her tightly against him; it nearly caused her to melt into him. Warmth pooled in her stomach as he finally pulled her away, leaving her defenseless.

She'd never know where he learned to kiss the way he did her. Pressing their foreheads together, they tried to regain their breaths. "Always," she promised and he kissed her again.

 _December 10, 1780_

Lafayette was reading a letter from Rochambeau as she poured over his infinite collection of books in his apartment. Ollie's daughter giggled and Genevieve bounced the baby in her arms. It took little convincing to have her take care of the one-year old. Ollie had to work at the tavern while his wife was under the weather which left Genevieve, who's schedule was freer than America, to take care of little Theresa.

Cradling her in one arm, Genevieve used her other hand to keep the baby occupied. Offering her index finger, she allowed the infant to clasp a small fist around it. When she was sure that Theresa wouldn't throw a fit, she began to continue to scan over the many indexes in Lafayette's apartment. After their moment in the tailor shop, he had introduced her to the flat he kept in Albany. It was small, quaint and obviously unused but he had kept many books for his own amusement.

" _Merde,_ " He exclaimed and she looked over his shoulder to the couch where he had a hand to his forehead.

"There's a baby in the room." She quipped with a glance over her shoulder and he looked up, a sheepish smile on his face. His expression radiated excitement however and she added, "What happened?" Turning around and sitting beside him, she settled the baby in her lap. He glanced at the babbling child, eyes tender before showing the scrawl of French pouring down the page to her. His fingers laced together with her own and she sent him a look. "What has happened?" She repeated firmly. He pulled away the letter when Theresa bounced on Genevieve's lap, demanding attention. The baby cooed and sucked in her bottom lip. Smiling fondly, she kissed the baby's forehead.

"Hey, baby," she murmured before regarding Lafayette. He seemed entranced by the image of the two girls together and didn't snap out of it until she squeezed his hand.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "er, Rochambeau has secured a voyage to America. We are to have reinforcements here by next week - 6,000 soldiers, weapons and food." Her mouth dropped open and she gave him a one-armed hug. Theresa crawled over into Lafayette's lap, clapping her hands haphazardly. The Frenchman scooped her up under the arms and suspended the baby. Theresa let out a shriek of joy and Genevieve beamed at the image of him with a child. " _C'est fantastique!_ "

Trying to focus, she remembered the news. _Rochambeau, supplies in the winter, right._ She mused. As a soldier, that meant supplies for the winter long after the stocks were out from Albany. She thanked whatever God was up there. She'd survive this winter, with faith.

"It is," she agreed as he re-read the letter again. "Lafayette," he looked up at her, excitement and life glowing from his very being as he smiled radiantly. He cuddled the baby close to him and the infant wrapped her chubby arms around his neck. "Have I ever told you that you are amazing?" The brunette didn't just mean about the French.

"You could tell me more," he teased and she kissed him chastely. "Is that all I get after my work?"

"Yes," she quipped, glancing at the time that was shown over the fireplace. "Oh, no. Is that really the time?"

"Where are you going?" He inquired, standing up with Theresa as she gathered her coat and gloves. Slipping them on over her long sleeves - she had taken to wearing them to cover her scar - she smiled at Lafayette. Leaning over the couch, she took the confused baby from his arms and began to layer coats and a scarf on her.

"I have to try on a dress for the wedding." She explained, "And no, you can't have a peek. It is a surprise. But this baby will because Ettie should be back from school by now, and I have to get her too."

"That is simply unfair." He complained, "You will look beautiful no matter what," he pouted, "Why can you not simply wear what you wore to the Winter's Ball?" The verdant-eyed woman shook her head and kept preparing to leave.

"Because I cannot wear something that'll take the eyes away from Eliza. It is her wedding," she scolded, "and that dress is something scandalous." the brunette saw the wicked glint in his eyes and tut-tutted.

"But in my eyes, _ma belle,_ you will always be infinitely more beautiful." He swaggered up to her and she rolled her eyes. Transferring the baby into one arm, she tried to open the door.

"Laf!" He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. Her fingers curled over his hand and she smiled fondly. "I have to go. The sooner I leave, the sooner I'm back." She reasoned and he straightened up with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine. But you must return." He ordered and she laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

"Of course. _Au revoir,_ " with the swish of her skirts, she was gone and the Frenchman was left alone again. He breathed in and out, the imprint she left on him still on the forefront of his mind. Settling down on the couch, he looked out the window where snow was falling. It was not rational or smart or even something he believed to be real. This woman he had fallen so quickly in love with who disappeared and reappeared on a whim, who seemed smarter than she let on and harbored secrets in her heart he wished to know, was something of an enigma.

There were no words to describe how he felt for her and how she was with children, but there were words to describe how he felt about her _disappearances._ And it was anger, hurt, maybe even betrayal. When he had first seen her in Hercules' shop, he could not bare to look at her. He had given her his heart and she had stolen it without a single glance back. Then again, she had warned him. " _You have not fallen in love with me,"_ she had whispered _, "just who you imagine me to be. But, perhaps, if Fate gives us another chance…"_ She had given him an out he had chosen not to take.

But could she not trust him? A man - a man who spent many restless nights and waking days loving and wondering about her and a man he was sure received the same affection he held for her - with the very secret that caused her vanishing acts? There were so many things he had to say - wanted to say - and he decided to take a trip out up to the Schuyler Mansion. Perhaps the soon-to-be newlyweds would help him.

.

"Lafayette. The wedding isn't until next week." Alexander teased instead of greeting him. John Laurens was by his side and the freckled man smiled at him from where the two stood at the bottom of a staircase. "Is there news from France?" Lafayette approached them immediately, dusting off any snow on his shoulders.

"Rochambeau has wrote back," he affirmed, "with a promise of 6,000 soldiers." Alexander smirked and John's lips stretched into a wide grin. "He should be here after your wedding."

"That's good," the Caribbean-born man then realized that there was something else to say. "There is something else on your mind other than the war." Blushing, Lafayette looked away and John chuckled.

"Perhaps we should go to the den," the freckled man suggested and Alexander nodded in agreement. "Follow me." He waved a hand and Lafayette did so although a bit sullen at the thought of walking the way alone with an energetic John Laurens. The curly-haired man couldn't hold back the bright smile as he wrapped an arm around Lafayette's.

"Alright." Alexander, obviously confused at the situation, turned back up to the staircase. "I'll go visit my darling betrothed before I join you then. She is having a bit of a nervous breakdown over the reception." He added bashfully and the other two smiled. John nearly jumped in his spot just as Alexander took the first step up. The Lieutenant Colonel began to lead the way as soon as Alexander's back was turned.

"Is it the pretty lady? Genny?" He sang and Lafayette plugged his ears as John danced around him. "Trouble in paradise?" He asked, resuming a normal pace. The brunet's face was more serious as the _marquis_ looked away.

"Do you know why she disappears?" John's gaze averted* and Lafayette immediately became suspicious. "You know?"

"No, I don't." He immediately corrected and Lafayette could sense the honesty in the man's words. "I have my theories."

"And?"

" _And_ it is not my secret to share. Genny will tell you." Lafayette shook his head, "She will, if she loves you."

"This is stupid." Lafayette growled. John opened the door and let the Frenchman in first. He collapsed on a seat. John leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. The door opened again and in came Alexander, a tired Eliza behind him.

"Has something happened?" The brunette asked, "Has something happened to Genevieve?"

"No," John immediately assured but Lafayette was still quiet, too irritated to speak. "And we need to know why she does before she disappears again." Eliza, conflicted, didn't know what to say as Alexander led her to a couch and sat beside her. Her loyalty to the woman was unquestionable, but her upcoming vows ordered her not to lie to her husband. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore the burning gaze of the _marquis._

"Hey," Alexander whispered and she looked into his eyes. She loved this man with all of her being and his eyes glowed effortlessly with support.

"Do you trust Lafayette?" She asked and, shocked, he nodded. When she returned to staring at her hands, he glanced at his friends.

"With my life."

"With Genevieve's." Eliza knew her best friend like she knew the back of her hand. The want to fight, the want to do _something_ instead of just sitting around and letting the men do work for her, was the driving force behind her. As a man, none would question or threaten her as long as she knew how to wield a sword and fire a gun - but as a woman, that was a different story. Although she hadn't been there herself, Eliza knew men well. Her sister could make entire battalions fall at her feet with a few well-placed words. But when you're outnumbered on the battlefield...

"He loves her." Alexander murmured and the Schuyler sighed. She raised her head to look at the Frenchman with steel fire. She would not let this man be the reason Genevieve is unable to return to the warfront.

"If you can wait until the wedding, then perhaps you'll have convinced her to show you." Eliza said swiftly, rising and exiting the den. Alexander looked helplessly between her and his other friends.

"'Liza,"

"What do you mean, _mademoiselle?_ " Lafayette yelled after her but he was ignored. Letting out a growl of frustration, he rubbed his temple. "Women," Alexander snorted and rose, coming over to pat his friend on the shoulder.

"I know right." John snorted, nearly forgotten in the midst of all the other drama. With a roll of his eyes, the curly-haired man added, "Jesus - they're more complicated than military tactics."

 _December 12, 1780_

Genevieve woke up while it was still dark, a habit that she had yet to break. The space beside her was empty and she sat up. Running a hand through her hair, she yawned and looked at the door. It was open only by a slight crack and a warm glow emanated from outside. Slipping out of the covers, she held back a shiver as goosebumps rose from her skin. The night air was cold. Clothes Lafayette had provided was some protection against it and she raised the collar to her nose, breathing in his scent. Opening the door with a creak, she leaned against the frame when she saw him bent over the table, scribbling something down.

"Lafayette?" She murmured and he looked up, exhaustion marking his eyes with dark circles. He must've gotten up after only a few hours in bed. "Come back to sleep."

"I can't," he replied and went back to writing. Crossing her arms, she watched his profile for a few more moments before pushing herself off the frame. Walking out of the room, she heard the crack of fire as she entered the main room. Finally, his quill stilled and he paused. He didn't acknowledge her as she sat by it, poking it with the iron rod occasionally to build it. Yawning, she glanced at him again but there was still no movement.

"Lafayette, is there something wrong?" Genevieve asked and Lafayette looked up, startled, from where he was pouring over some of his military plans. It was as if he didn't even notice her - had thought she had gone back to sleep. Standing up, she walked up to him. Her hands rested on his shoulders and the tenseness in his body drained away. He leaned into her and sighed. Eliza's words still rested in his mind and he looked back into his plans. The maps of Valley Forge and Pennsylvania were littered with black marks and there were pages of his elegant writing.

"Nothing that should be your concern," he murmured and she kissed his forehead. He could hear her heart thudding slowly, as if the muscle itself was still tired. Leaning down, she hugged his neck and breathed softly. Lafayette sighed at the heat radiating from her compared to his cold skin. The bed must've been warm.

"Your concern is mine," she said with a blunt honesty that he didn't know the origin of. "If you're losing sleep over it, then you need to tell me." Her tone softened and she pulled away. Already, the Frenchman missed the warmth she gave him. "Now, explain." She drew up a chair and sat beside him to study the multiple maps. He smiled tiredly and picked up his quill.

"I don't want to bore you." He protested but she ignored him, pulling the overly large sleeves over her hands. He grinned, exhausted. His tunics fitted her smaller frame so loosely that they barely hung on her.

"Nothing you say will ever bore me." She assured and he cocked his head. "I'm sure," the brunette added, leaning over to kiss him. He ceased any protests and tucked a brown curl behind her ear. Sliding the maps closer between them, he grabbed a quill to help gesture all while shuffling his chair closer to hers.

"See, we are to travel here," he pointed the nib at a road and glided it up the path, "but we don't know if the British are here or here. Sending scouts could be too risky…" and she nodded along as he took up the most of their day explaining how they were proceed from Valley Forge.

 **A/N: I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS FLUFFY MESS. They're so cute though, aren't they? Thank you to Girostritron, Kitty of 2 kingdoms, and laurensturtle favoriting and following! Thanks to laurensturtle, Dulharpa, Kitty of 2 kingdoms and a Guest for reviewing as well! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **laurensturtle: Your pfp is honestly the best because who doesn't love Ant dabbing? THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING FRICKEN 4 TIMES? LIKE THAT'S INSANE? I'm so, so, _so_ happy that you love this story and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!**

 **Dulharpa: It's okay! I've actually never watched Mulan so I had to search it up and I think it's when the dude cuts her shirt and it reveals she's a girl? But yeah, I thought about it but realized then that it'd be too short-lived. Thank you for reading!**

 **Guest: Thank you so much!**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: I can't reveal anything about the wedding ;) and yeah, I do research a ton of stuff for my fics because I want them to be as real as possible. Thank you for reading!**

 *** " _Do you know why she disappears?" John's gaze averted…_ Let me remind you back in CH 3 when Genevieve as Olivier literally excused herself from having a full conversation with John in exchange for a five second conversation with Lafayette; plus he was there for their first meeting - saw the instant infatuation - he has his suspicions. Here's the excerpt:**

 **"Then you are serving under a good man. Until we meet again, Oliver Smith." Lafayette murmured and he turned around when Washington called him. Genevieve frowned at how lifeless the Frenchman was. She did not remember him that way back in New York. Shaking her head, she turned back to her tent, unaware of John Laurens' intuitive gaze.**


	7. The Wedding

**A/N: Just a quick warning of suggestive sexual themes. They aren't bad at all in my opinion, just subtle words but if you want to skip that, I suggest reading up to when Genny replies to Lafayette in their bed after the wedding and going down straight to December 15th. That's the aftermath.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7:** **The Wedding**

 _December 14, 1780_

They arrived at the wedding an hour early. Philip Schuyler allowed them in with a stern eye and Genevieve curtsied to him. "Eliza's in her room." He informed and Genevieve took Ettie's hand. "The men are in the parlor." the head of the house gestured down the hall, "I can have someone take you there, Mr. Alcott."

"We'll find it," William said through a tight smile. Bennett stared up at the man in wonder and Genevieve smiled. Her brother was a sucker for war heroes. "See you later, Genny."

"See you later," she echoed and tugged her sister along to the bride's room. They climbed up the stairs and Genevieve counted the doors down to Eliza's. Hers was always the third one on the right. Knocking on the door, she heard a bunch of laughs.

"Who is it?" Peggy sang from the other side and opened the door to reveal the two sisters. "Oh, more the merrier." The youngest Schuyler sister grabbed the youngest Alcott sister beside Genevieve and tugged her in. "Eliza!"

"Yes?" The bride turned around and Genevieve smiled at how relaxed she seemed. Pre-marital nerves wouldn't take her hostage it seemed. "Genny! Ettie! I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I. You're glowing, Eliza!" The woman truly was, her cheeks a dusted pink and her smile lighting up the room.

"Your dress is beautiful," Angelica complemented genuinely and the wittiest Schuyler sister kissed Genevieve's cheek.

"Thank you," she smoothed out the blue gown and doing a twirl to showcase it. The white skirts underneath swished around her legs and her frilly sleeves brushed her fingers. "You are all beautiful, as usual," she teased and Angelica laughed. "Eliza, I am so happy for you." She hugged the bride and Eliza beamed, squeezing her friend's waist tightly.

"Oh, thank you. I - I never thought I'd make it this far; you know how Alexander is." _Too well,_ Genevieve mused as Eliza continued. "I haven't seen him today but from what I hear from Laurens, he is a complete _mess_." Laughing, they settled all around her room comfortably as they began chatting like no tomorrow.

"You'd think that he'd wouldn't considering his _smooth moves,_ " Genevieve drawled and they shared peals of laughter. Peggy sat Ettie at the vanity and began doing up her hair as the blonde investigated the numerous items of makeup. Occasionally, she'd look up and ask Peggy to help her apply it. Genevieve smiled at their hushed conversation before drawing her eyes back to Eliza who had settled on her bed, Angelica's hand in hers.

"I know right?" The bride's eyes were full of mirth but as Angelica chuckled beside her, Genevieve couldn't help but notice that the laugh didn't reach the maid of honor's eyes.

The wedding passed by quickly and transitioned easily into the dinner. She was seated at the same table with the group of them - the newlyweds, John, Angelica and the others. Her father on one side, Lafayette on the other, they ate dish after dish of favorites and when dessert was finally finished, she felt comfortably full. The Hamiltons lead the way to the open space for dancing and the guests followed after her but she stayed behind, the thought of shuffling along with the hot crowd unappealing. Once only a few guests lingered in the dining hall, Lafayette pulled her up and towards the floor. Alexander and Eliza were already swaying for their first dance, the instruments playing a soft song as the couple danced in their own world.

"Lafayette," she complained playfully, feeling stuffed as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

"You're the envy tonight of every man alone tonight." He whispered and she shook her head with a roll of her eyes. A server weaved in between the crowd as Alexander and Eliza stepped up their game, twirling and waltzing from one side of the room to another. The server stopped in front of them and offered the last two champagne flutes. Taking it graciously, she thanked him and sipped it. The bubbling drink on her tongue tasted like sweet summer fruit and she sighed at its fragrance. Her father watched them with a curious glance as Bennett wrapped an arm around Ettie. The blonde obviously wanted to join in but her brother held her back.

"No need to lie to boost my ego." She murmured, taking another sip.

"It is not a lie." He promised. Leaning over, he kissed her languidly. Smiling into it, she was about to say something when she spotted a Continental Army soldier who had acted as the 'flower girl' for the wedding.

Hercules Mulligan looked over at her and she stared back until he began approaching. Kissing Lafayette on the cheek, she excused herself after finishing her champagne. After a promise for the first dance, she walked past Peggy who was being flirted her socks off by one John Laurens.

"John," she greeted as she passed and the two flushed. "Peggy."

"Genny," they both stammered their greetings. Giggling to herself, she continued on her way until she reached her father.

"Hello, Papa."

"Genevieve," he smiled and she noted with a pang of sadness that his hair was losing its color. Kissing his cheek, she stood beside him and watched the couple of the night waltz across the floor. "It is a day God has blessed. For more than two people it seems." He added slyly and glanced at his daughter. Red flooded her cheeks and she gawked.

"Papa, I - We, uh - Lafayette-"

"-is more than ready to meet me. And I want to meet him. Watch Bennett and Ettie, will you?" He left before she could say anything and the eldest daughter groaned. The blond man approached the soldier who was still conversing with Hercules slowly to not spook the two. Ettie grinned at her sister's red face and Bennett laughed. The music swelled, covering it but Genevieve heard it anyway.

"I hate you," she told them. Ettie just broke into peals of laughter as Bennett clutched onto his abdomen, bending over. "It's not funny! Lafayette is too optimistic and he can see that our father is approaching him - this is gonna go badly." She caught a glimpse of Lafayette smiling widely to William and then looked away.

"You like him!" The blonde sang. "Do you…" Ettie paused for a more dramatic effect, " _love_ him?"

"Stop!" She exclaimed. Her embarrassment heightened as Bennett pointed a shaking finger from where their father was putting up a great act. Lafayette's face was scrunched up in fear and utter horror as Hercules tried not to laugh.

" _C'est ridicule!_ " He seemed to say and Genevieve hitched her dress, running over to them. Bennett held his ground, holding onto his sister's hand. Ettie got the idea and helped him restrain their older sister. " _J'aime ta fille!_ " William, sensing that Lafayette was too passionate, made a consoling gesture. His words were quieter as he tried - and failed - to calm the French soldier.

"Lafayette is about to rip our father apart if you don't let me go," she scolded even though she could see the humor in their situation. The music finished and Alexander and Eliza broke apart just as Lafayette spotted Genevieve. Everyone looked at Lafayette and William Alcott, and many began whispering. Genevieve groaned and slouched over in embarrassment. "Why me?"

When she looked up again after two or so seconds, she spotted Lafayette marching over to her with a determined aura. "Laf-"

"I do not care what he says," he said in a low tone, so quickly she could barely decipher it as his accent strengthened. "If he does not support us, we do not need him. We can... we can move away - find our own place, or _je ne sais pas!_ " She giggled as his ranting continued, French mixed with English until finally she shushed him by grabbing him by the collar and kissing him. Confused, the dark-eyed man pulled back and just stared at her. " _Je suis très perdu."_

"It was a joke, you idiot." She explained and his mouth was in the shape of an 'o' as her father approached. "Papa, have you ever considered becoming an actor?"

"I've gotten a few requests from a company or two," he riposted and chuckled when Lafayette's dumbstruck face turned towards him. "Son, you're welcome into our family any time." He added and hugged him tightly. "Now, go dance. I need to sit down - that was enough excitement for the day." He grumbled and Genevieve dragged Lafayette onto the dance floor.

"That was not funny." He muttered, bending at the waist to kiss her hand before straightening. The verdant-eyed woman chuckled as she settled a hand in his and one on his shoulder. His settled on her waist as they began to sway on the dance floor. Their last experience dancing together wasn't forgotten and she made sure they stayed on the simple side of things, stepping in time with the music. For his sake, and for her feet's sake.

"My father loves me. There is little he wouldn't let me do." He gently spun her and her dress bloomed like an upside flower. "Have I told you that you're very handsome tonight, _monsieur._ " And he was in his army uniform. The navy contrasted against the stark white of his shirt and brought out his dark eyes and lean form. His hair was gathered in a neat bun atop his head and the easy grin he had sported for the majority of the wedding could've made many ladies swoon at the sight of him.

"No," he said truthfully but by now, a smirk had replaced any lost expression that was left after that prank. She beamed at him, seeing the stars reflected in his eyes. Stepping closer, he wrapped an arm around her waist and dipped her. "But you are the epitome of beauty, _mademoiselle,_ "

"And you are the very definition of a rugged rebel soldier." She replied. "How am I to be so lucky?" She asked, pretending to faint. He laughed and caught her easily.

"Fate." He answered with a shrug, "I have been equally blessed - a woman with eyes as green as summer leaves and a laugh like bells." The music was beginning to slow, coming to its end.

"Flattery like that will get you many places." She reconsidered her words before adding, "But perhaps not on the war front. I hardly believe bullets can be stopped by honeyed words." He threw his head back in a laugh. It rung in her chest and caused a warm feeling to gather in her heart.

"I suppose that is so," he agreed. A more serious came over his face and her smile shrunk under it. "But will flattery get you to stay?"

"I - I know you want me to stay. To write, to…" _be honest._ Her heart pounded against her rib cage and the heat from his body seeped into hers, making any muscles she had built turn to mush. His hand cupped her cheek and her hand reached to cover his as she leaned into the warmth emanating from his palm. There was nothing left to say. He knew her answer. Sadness loomed over them like a shadow and his smile completely disappeared, his soft lips quirking down.

The music ended, and more couples joined the floor. They broke apart and were immediately swept away from each other. Looking at her new partner, she was surprised to see Bennett's dark brown eyes staring back at her. His blonde-brown hair was combed over and she thought that her kid brother had grown into someone a lady would be lucky to have.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted her sister trying to talk to Lafayette, barely reaching the height where the soldier's heart was. She seemed to be trying to make a point, based on how Ettie's expression was of furrowed brows and the way her lips pressed together.

Turning back to her brother, she grinned at his slight attempt to dance although she knew it was half-hearted. "What is this?"

"Nothing," he shrugged it off but her heart warmed anyway as they shared one dance. "I just want you to be happy, Genny." His smile faltered, "I know taking care of us didn't make you happy. Maybe that's part of the reason why you left." The mere words caused his face to darken and pangs of guilt struck her. This wasn't how she wanted her brother's life to go.

"Never say that," she protested but he shook his head. "I love you - I will never stop loving you."

"You loved us but you weren't happy. Not with the men, not with the sewing, not with any of it." He argued and she looked away. "But, Lafayette makes you happy. The way the Schuylers make you really happy but more than that - perhaps when the war is over…"

"I know." She whispered fondly and when the music ended, he bent teasingly and kissed her hand with a joking smile. A smile tugged at her lips achingly and hugging him tightly, she kissed his hair. "I'm so sorry you grew up without me."

"I never knew it was so hard to take care of us but now I'm the one who has to cook and listen to Ettie complain and help around the tavern. I never knew it was this hard to live without a mom." He added and she felt her heart chip when his voice cracked. Tears stung her eyes and she squeezed him even harder.

"I love you, Bennett. So much," she whispered hoarsely and he nodded, burying his face into her neck like he did when he had a scary dream. He'd always sneak into her room when they were little, hiding under her covers until she could get him to sleep. But now, those eyes weren't wide with fear but gazing at her with endless adoration.

"I know,"

After a whole four more hours at the mansion, Genevieve arrived at Lafayette's. Rubbing at her eyes, she yawned and slipped out of her gown before tying his looser clothes around her. After the first two hours, many of the guests had left - including her family due to Ettie and Bennett's school next day, and she had spent the rest of the time with the newly wedded Eliza, a bottle of wine and the other Schuyler sisters while Alexander and his groomsmen sneaked away for rounds of Sam Adams.

Now, she just wanted to sleep and she slipped between the sheets so the hangover wouldn't be that bad in the morning. She could barely remember what time it was. The candles were the only source of light and she was about to fall into the realms of sleep when the door opened. "Genevieve?" Groaning, she sat up and responded. When there was no response, she got up reluctantly and walked out to the main room. Leaning against the wall for support, she walked into the living room. Her eyes widened when she spotted Lafayette stumbling around and she immediately came to his side, helping him into their room. He sat down with a plop and she realized how drunk he was when he muttered gibberish and his glassy eyes didn't focus on one thing for more than a second or two. Undoing his hair, she placed the band on the bedside table.

"It takes a lot to get you drunk, Lafayette. How much exactly did you drink?" She scolded as she pulled his arms out from his jacket. He mumbled something incomprehensible as she began unbuttoning his vest.

"Gen," he whispered and her eyes locked with his. "Am I dreaming?" Shaking her head, she realized he was like in another dimension. Chuckling, she replied.

"No, you aren't, Lancelot." He nodded seriously and she finally managed to get the vest off of him and pulled off his shirt. "Come on, go sleep." He raised a sluggish hand to her cheek, knuckles brushing over the skin but she ignored it, pushing him higher up the bed towards the pillows. There, she slid his boots off and laid down on the bed next to him. Snuggling into the covers, she closed her eyes. Again, sleep pulled at her consciousness.

" _Je t'aime_." A quiet voice pierced her foggy mind and she turned on her other side. Lafayette's dark eyes stared back at her, the candlelight softly reflected in his irises. They were honest, sober. Her lungs were weak as she shakily grabbed his hand from under the blanket. His fingers immediately intertwined with his. On the small bed, only three or so centimeters separated them and the emotion welled up in her throat. Her brain's muted activity became a whirlwind as she tried to sort through her thoughts on what to do - what to say. But only one thing stood out.

"I love you, Lafayette. I do," she pressed his hand against her chest so he could feel the rapid beating of her heart. "See it in me that I truly do."

"I love you," he repeated and she broke out into a smile as he closed the distance between them. His soft lips nipped at hers teasingly and she pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth. Rolling them so he was draped over her, he planted his elbows on either side of her and never broke their connection. Her arms looped around her neck and the taste of aged red wine and yeasty beer combined between them as one of his hands skimmed the length of her side, settling on the hem of her - his shirt.

"Lafayette," she drew back as he planted kiss after kiss down her neck. Her breathless saying of his name gave him pause. He returned to her eyes and an unspoken meaning* passed between them. His kiss stole her breath away and she sighed.

"I love you, _ma_ _chérie."_ He assured and she relaxed in his arms as he pulled her shirt up.

 _December 15, 1780_

Genevieve woke up in the middle of the morning, aching in places she didn't know existed and her mind a foggy mess. A headache pounded in her head but it was more of a light knock than a swing with the butt of a gun so she ignored it. Yawning, she sat up and saw Lafayette's broad back sitting on the edge of the bed. The muscles stretched as he hunched forward as if thinking deeply. "Laf?" She inquired softly, feeling the bed sheets itch on her right arm. Agitated, she rubbed her arm and felt the pink, waxy skin tug and twist. For a moment, it was normal. Just scratching an itch and waking up in the morning with the man she loved. _Love,_ she mused fondly, _I love this man._

Then she remembered who she was - that she was a soldier. A soldier who had gotten it in the Battle of Brandywine. A soldier who was asked about it by none other than the man sitting at the edge of the bed. Not caring about the cold goosebumps rising on her skin anymore, she crawled over to him and reached for his arm. He instantly jerked away, standing up and facing her. Face twisted with betrayal and hurt, he merely stared at her until she ducked her head away.

"Where did you get that?" He pointed at her right arm and she tried to hide it from view. When Lafayette saw what she was doing, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it so they could both see it in plain light. Letting out a slight squeak, she felt her lip tremble. "Where did you get _this?"_ His voice was dangerous, quiet. Looking into his eyes, she saw no point in lying. The darkness in his face shook her core. She had never seen the man so infuriated.

"Lafayette… I…" what? What could she do? Apologize?

"Tell me - I need to hear it with my own ears, from you." He pushed and she swallowed painfully and pulled her arm back towards her body.

"Lafayette-"

" _Look me in the eye_ and say you aren't Oliver Smith."

"I won't lie to you!" She yelled back, green eyes glaring up at him. The intensity in his eyes wouldn't lower. Tension crackled as she tried to hide the scar with her other hand but it was much too big. "I won't lie-"

"Why not?" He asked bitterly and sat back on the bed again. He sat just out of reach and buried his face in his hands, "You have proven to be quite a trained liar. And I do not know what hurts more," he glanced at her and she felt like she was trampled by a wagon, over and over and over again. She couldn't breathe, her chest was on _fire_. "That you did not trust me enough to tell me or that you joined in the first place when you knew. You knew I would fight - You knew I was in love with you." His voice wavered and she looked away, ashamed.

"You weren't - not then."

"I was. And you knew." He sent her a scorching glare, yet at the same time, it filled her with such icy poison that she couldn't move. "At the Winter's Ball when we danced-"

"You didn't love me then." She reminded him but he talked over her as if he couldn't even hear her anymore.

"You could have left - stayed safe."

"Lafayette." She tried to reach for him but he stood, pulling on his shirt that he swiped from the floor and grabbing his Continental Army jacket. Standing, she pulled on his too-large shirt that she wore last night and followed after him as he went to leave. "Where are you going?" Instead of answering, he turned around and set his jaw.

"I need to know just one thing." The fragile glint in his eyes told her everything. If she answered wrong, she'd break him. Genevieve hated how much power she had. She despised it with her very being - yet she was the very reason she had it. At that moment, she felt as if she deserved to go to Hell. "Did you lie when you said you loved me too?"

"Never." She whispered brokenly and he seemed to relax just a fraction. But she saw it, she always did. They both knew _they_ were real. "But I am a soldier and you cannot stop me from going to war again. I will fight by your side as I have before. Nothing has changed."

"Do not fool yourself." He scoffed, "I will personally ask George Washington to discharge you."

"On the account of what?" She challenged and he opened the door. "On account of me wanting to _do something?_ "

"On the account that you refused to come back."

"You can't-"

" _Je fais ceci pour te protéger!"_ He screamed and she clenched her fists to stop herself from flinching back in shock. "I will not let another person I love in my life die. I can save you,"* his breathing was uneven, ragged as he pulled at his lapels aggressively. "I _will_ fix your mistake."

"Lafayette," the emotion that made his voice tremor caused her chest to feel split open as he closed the door with a slam. Her lip trembled as the slamming of the door echoed in her bones, bouncing back in forth in between her ribs. Gathering her bearings, she looked around. Lafayette still had some possessions here. Extra clothes, for instance, and his maps. She could camp it out here - no.

No, he was going to ride to George Washington now and tell him that the man who saved them back at Brandywine wasn't coming back. That meant she had to plan something that could get her back. She obviously couldn't follow them when she didn't even know the plans. She paced back and forth, glancing into the fireplace occasionally as she scanned the room for something to help…

The maps.

The letter from Rochambeau. Of course. She could meet the man when he landed at Newport.

Bingo.

 **A/N: Hey y'all. Thank you for the bundle of reviews! Before I get to the thank yous, I want to say something. Because for me, school is back, I'm not sure about the schedule of updates but I'll try and update y'all on that situation. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **Thank you:** **starlily16 for following; Dulharpa, LOTRPJOHP13133, Rudolf-6201 for favoriting; doctorhuntingthingsat221b and justfandomwritings for doing both! Thank you to the many guests who reviewed as well as doctorhuntingthingsat221b, RiseUpWiseUp, Dulharpa, BriCat03 and Kitty of 2 kingdoms!**

 **Also, I'm letting you guys name the chestnut horse Genny will ride for the next few chapters because it's a horse. Who doesn't love animal companions?**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **ANPWJR: No worries! I should've put a warning, which I did now. You flatter me with how you want a sequel and real actors to portray this. That'd honestly be the greatest honor ever. You're completely forgiven and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **To the 2 Guests who Corrected me: Thank you for telling me and I've updated that. It's great that I have readers who notice these things when I don't.**

 **Quite A Few: There are only 2 Johns who are clearly separated. John Laurens, obviously, in the second half of CH 1 and a John Schuyler which was pointed out by an asterisk. Yeah, it happens where I read these chapters so much that I don't notice anything wrong until I post it. I try to fix any mistakes but any you point out will be of great help. Thank you for reading!**

 **doctorhuntingthingsat221b: Thank you for reviewing twice! I try really hard to make good characters to pair them up with Canon Characters so I'm glad you like Genny. Also, I _love_ the ship name of Lafenny. I was thinking about Genafette too so I'm not sure.**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: We have to remember that the army is huge. Lafayette is a Major General so he doesn't spend a lot of time with soldiers not in his corps. He's also busy with Washington and the French. John noticed because he simply spent more time with Genny while Laf did not. I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations!**

 **BriCat03: That is literally Lafayette. Your review nade me laugh! Thank you!**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: Here's your update! Thank you!**

 **Dulharpa: Me too! I'm glad you reviewed and that you're enjoying this story!**

 *** _He returned to her eyes and an unspoken meaning…_ She's a virgin.**

 *** _"Je fais ceci pour te protéger!" He screamed and she clenched her fists to stop herself from flinching back in shock. "I will not let another person I love in my life die. I can save you,"_ I'd like to think the reason Lafayette is so protective and angry is because he's an orphan. Since I can't find out how his mother died (if you could tell me in the reviews, I'd appreciate it) in this story, it's because his mother was sick but didn't know it was something worse so she waved off any attempts of her son getting a doctor. Lafayette didn't get the doctor until it was too late and she died. That's why he's taking initiative and doing something to protect the woman he loves.**


	8. Rochambeau

**Chapter 8: Rochambeau**

 _December 19, 1780_

Angelica readily allowed her access into the shipping log and huge maps that covered the pan of the dining table within her first request. There were various places on the unfurled map where the sharp, precise writing of Philip Schuyler covered small sections - footnotes on the trading routes, dangerous waters and the shores themselves. Genevieve herself crossed lines and added her own annotations where the British blockade was.

When Philip Schuyler had left for New York City for work, it was a task that was not necessary to keep the charters up to date. Of course, Angelica and Peggy readily agreed while Eliza worried herself to death due to the howling snowstorms and how her Alexander was faring. The wind and snow was constant and many refused to go outside at all.

By now, Genevieve had pretty much stayed at the Schuylers most of her time, ignoring any attempt for them to answer why the Continental Army - and Lafayette - left without her. But they had guessed when they saw that she refrained from wearing long sleeves and showcased the scar openly.

Long curved lines stemming from New York linked to places like Virginia, London and Portugal represented the routes the ships took and she made little marks to portray the six French ships. As she scribbled restlessly on a blank page, her thoughts raced and came in full circle. If her calculations were correct by the charters… she just needed the ledgers to cement her hypothesis. The numbers just had to be low enough and the dates would have to match up.

She heard the door open and closed. Pausing in her work, she looked up to see Eliza. Sleep deprivation shown in the bags under her eyes made Genevieve completely back away from her work as the Schuyler handed the brunette a leather-bound book.

"The ledger. It's up to date and I thought you could use it." It seemed the middle Schuyler sister had been doing her fair share of work, evident by smudges of ink on the flat side of her hand. "Peggy did most of it, I just happened to take over once she nearly passed out in exhaustion to keep up with your work." Taking it, Genevieve skimmed through it and settled it on the table before opening up the charter. Her finger ran down the page as she read through the dates, checking if the numbers were correct.

"And Angelica?"

"Arranged a meeting with Mr. Aldridge tomorrow morning. She'll try to persuade him to waive the dividends until after the war." She breathed in sharply when her finger stopped at the final number.

"The sums…"

"Are drastically low, I know." Eliza murmured, coming to stand beside her. "The barricade is harming more than the war effort. And the charter?" Mrs. Hamilton looked at the many pages of writing that were crossed out and changed. Genevieve shook her head with a steely glint in her eyes and set her jaw. Dipping a quill in the inkwell, she began to scribble down notes about the two accounts. "Genny, it's nearly midnight. Perhaps you should sleep."

"I will," she promised, turning her head and kissing Eliza on the cheek, "I just need to-"

"-finish it up. Which can be done tomorrow." The woman countered firmly. "I will send Angelica on you if you don't sleep soon." She warned and Genevieve chuckled tiredly. "You know how she is."

"Of course, Eliza. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," with that, the Schuyler left and Genevieve looked back at the map. She couldn't help but think about the man she loved out in a winter much harsher than the one outside the window. His last words rung in her mind, crystal clear. Sighing, she shook her head and ran a finger over her scar as she thought.

Deciding to at least reread her work, she began with the ledger. The numbers were becoming increasingly low and business was flopping. The British blockade was well built, ships strategically placed so none could pass and it was doing its job well. No ship could pass as long as it was up and everyone was suffering. Especially for families whose main business was a trade - quartermasters such as the Schuylers. Shutting it again, she stacked it over the closed charters.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath in an attempt to regain her bearings. The windows weren't drawn and she had plain view of the swirling and dancing flakes. She wondered what her family was doing now - probably sleeping as wind rattled the panes of glass.

Her thoughts turned to Lafayette. He hadn't even said goodbye and neither had she. He was merely gone, evident by the way he locked his apartment and Hercules' vague answers. Perhaps it was her mistake - she should've trusted the man she loved. _Why didn't I?_ She mused, _I'm an idiot._ Sitting down on one of the dining chairs, she leaned back and closed her eyes for just a moment. Despite her want to sleep, it evaded her. The brunette kept her eyes closed anyway, enjoying the quietness of the room - only the slight crackle of the fire and the wind accompanied her.

The tranquility however, was punctured when the front door opened and closed. She opened her eyes and raised her head as someone opened the door to the dining room.

"Angelica-" she started but the woman held up a hand to silence her.

"Someone is here to see you." Standing up, Genevieve straightened her rumpled skirts as Angelica proceeded to enter. "And he had requested an audience with you at this ungodly hour. I would've declined if I knew for sure that you'd be sleep. But, these days…" Genevieve nodded. _No one slept anymore._

"Bring him in. I just have to line up the charter and ledger dates before I sleep." Angelica turned around and gestured for a large man to enter the dining room. "Mr. Mulligan." Her voice was curt as Hercules wrapped his patched overcoat around himself.

"Ms. Alcott."

He didn't say anything other than that, only walked to the fireplace. The fire barely alive, he stoked it back to life as Angelica blinked at their animosity. She wasn't curious as to why, just slightly put-off.

"Genny," her name was said in a warning. _Don't tear the house down,_ were the unspoken words and the green-eyed woman nodded. Sensing that both Hercules wanted privacy and that Angelica wanted to return back to her bed, Genevieve turned to her hostess.

"Go sleep, Angelica. I'll be up after." She promised honestly.

Nodding, the curly-haired woman murmured a soft 'goodnight' before exiting the dining room, closing the door behind her. Then, it was just the two of them. Hercules set down the iron poker and instead came around the table.

"Rumor has it that you're managing Philip Schuyler's trade routes." He started and she followed him with a hawk-like green gaze.

"Not alone," she informed coolly, "The Schuyler sisters help lighten the load."

"That's good. And is this your work?" He pointed at the map where she drew the blockade and ships, and books holding it all down. She nodded tersely as he picked up some of the pages where she had written all of her possible plans but many were crossed out with violent marks of black ink. She shuffled the other pages of writing back into one neat stack as he ran a hand over the dried markings of the British blockade and compared it to her notes. "This?"

"The blockade." She gestured to the black marks she'd made. "These are the French ships." Her gaze met his and she ran a finger over the spine of the ledger as his eyes caught sight of the scar. Feeling no urge to cover it up, she planted her hands on her hips and leaned over to just stare at the marks and lines she had made. "What are you doing here?"

"You know." He fired back and the brunette raised her head to meet his dark eyes.

"I'll hazard a guess." She sighed. "Did any of the French make it at all to America?" He glanced at her and for once, all hostility between them died.

"One of their captains," he affirmed, "who can confirm the layout of his forces." _Interesting._ "Perhaps you aren't a ghost," he amended and she smiled tightly. Turning around, she lead the way to the entrance hall and grabbed her coat from the hook. Hercules followed her, slightly confused.

"Where does he lodge?"

"Newport, Rhodes Island. Why?"

"We know the Continental Army won't survive." She answered shortly. Tossing a look his way, she noted that he wasn't yet ready. "Are you coming or not?"

"I can take you there," Hercules offered and Genevieve nodded, doing up her buttons. "We'll be there by tomorrow."

"Good. Let's go then. Who is this man, anyway?"

"Major General _Comte de_ Rochambeau."

 _December 25, 1780_

Lafayette vowed that he'd never return to Valley Forge ever again. He sat around the wilting fire with the other soldiers and set his jaw in hopes that it'd prevent his teeth from chattering. Then he could focus on his thoughts as the wind howled around them. John reached towards the dying flame as it suddenly rose again before fading. He couldn't remember the last time he was warm.

That was a lie, he could. He tugged his jacket tighter around him although it didn't do any good. Wind whirled around them, whistling in their ears and winding around their bones. The trees snapped and swayed as he shifted on the rock he was sitting on. His boot immediately squelched and he was reminded of his numb limbs. Grimacing, he tried not to think of anything but survival.

Especially not of her.

Or their bed… definitely not their bed.

"It's Christmas," John sent a weak smile at him, "shall we start carolling?" It seemed inappropriately timed humor had not yet been stolen from the man. At least it wasn't snowing.

"I do not think that will raise morale."

"Shall I start?" John continued as if he hadn't heard the _marquis_ speak. " _Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…_ " His normally smooth voice was interrupted by the tremors caused by the frigidness of winter. "Come on, everyone." Slowly, more soldiers joined in in a quiet hymn. Sighing, Lafayette saw the breath become pellucid in front of him.

Her morning smile while she was still asleep.

 _Stop yourself._ _You are angry at that woman. She has deceived, and lied, and had nearly died on the battlefield. The infection she festered nearly killed her when you had said she needn't go, drunk as you were._ His mind reprimanded but Lafayette found it hard when the only thing he ever wanted to do was return back to Albany. _The woman admitted to loving you yet did not trust you with her darkest secret. Did she think you would persecute her?_ He did not want to think about it. It was not even night and the sky was dark. Hearing the snow crunch, he resurfaced from his thoughts just as the crowd around their fire finished a song. "Any suggestions?"

"How about a tale of your after dusk exploits, lieutenant colonel?" Lafayette suggested and John immediately jumped into a tale of how much of a tomcat he was before the war. The pointless, probably fabricated and modified story would surely take away the men's attention at least for a while. Normally, he'd join in too - tell him about all the stupid things he did as a rich, stupid orphan boy of fifteen but today was worse than others. _Rochambeau isn't coming. He isn't coming; he isn't coming._ The thoughts repeated in his mind and he couldn't get it to stop.

Hunger gnawed at his stomach and every time one of the men shifted, it was as if skin cracked but if John's story was just enough to take the edge off, it was better than nothing. The _marquis_ closed his eyes for just a brief moment and heard her giggle in his ear.

 _Stop it. Do not think of that night._

" _Monsieur_ Lafayette?" A young voice called his name and although it was horribly butchered, he had learned to respond to anyone who even began to say 'L'. John didn't stop from his story but did look up away from the fire.

" _Oui_?" The major general stood as the young boy shifted nervously.

"The General wanted to see you." Lafayette knew it was coming sooner or later. Everyone in the camp knew that they were slowly dying one by one and that Rochambeau wasn't coming. Either that or he was horribly late and Lafayette knew him not to be that.

"Of course. Take my seat by the fire," he murmured quietly and the boy eagerly slipped past him and towards the flame. There was no thank you nor did Lafayette expect one as he made his way to the cabin. Light glowed from inside and he could only imagine how warm it was in there compared to outside. He was light atop the layers of snow and he realized that he had lost weight, too much weight pronounced even more when the General's guard did not recognize him. But in the end, he was allowed in and the heat that blasted him in the face nearly knocked him back.

The General was reading a letter at his desk, a glass of amber liquid near it. Lafayette made his presence known but the General didn't look up until he finished the letter. He refolded it and slipped it back into its envelope before standing up with his hands braced against the desk.

"Sir, you called for me?" Washington offered a tight-lipped smile as he began to unroll a map and stopped it from furling closed with a few weights.

"Yes. I have received a letter from Rhodes Island. Major General Rochambeau has promised us he will arrive before the next week ends."

"Sir?" Lafayette felt utterly lost and confused as the frost melted from his hair. Washington politely ignored it as he began to suit up, putting on his jacket and hat before following it up with a pair of gloves. George sighed as his hand skimmed over the word _Yorktown._

"The French fleet have passed the British blockade." The sentence was simple, blunt but Lafayette still struggled to understand. "They are to rendezvous before setting off for our encampment." He sheathed his sword and walked to the fireplace as the _marquis_ turned. "Have a glass of cognac, a seat by the fire. For God's sake, man, are you sick?"

"Find me a man who isn't sick," he fired back. George turned around to pin him with a stare, eyebrows raised. He finished pouring the drink and walked over to his friend.

"Do you not use the cabins we built?"

"My quarters are being used as a hospital for the sick and dying," he informed icily although he did accept the glass of alcohol and seat the General offered. "Lieutenant Colonel Laurens has also done so - may as well tell you before you die of shock, General." The Frenchman snapped and there was a tone of finality. Being on first name basis with the General held an air of familiarity but now, there was nothing but a cold aura of formality.

Feeling the alcohol warm his blood as soon as he drank it, he felt the gaunt hollows of his cheeks more prominently than ever as he wiped away melted frost from his face.

"What is our death count?" Washington asked but Lafayette ignored him. When he sensed Washington's stare on him, he raised his eyes towards the General.

"We lose more everyday to starvation and to the hypothermia. Despite our best efforts, the horses are dying as well - in fact, I believe dinner tonight is lightly roasted horse with a side of snow." Lafayette added dryly. The fire could barely produce enough heat to even cook a minnow. Finishing off the cognac, he stood and clenched his fists, feeling the fingernails dig into his palms. "The rations go to the sick as thousands of your army go hungry."

"And you and Laurens are keeping the morale up."

"As best as possible in these conditions." Lafayette muttered. "As your officer, General, it is my job to inform you when we are at our wit's end."

"And mine is to listen." he acquiesced, "I will speak to them and inform them of our situation. Perhaps then they will have some shred of hope left in this world."

"As will I," Lafayette agreed. George Washington began to exit and opened the door, wind sweeping into the warm cabin. It cut into Lafayette like a sword but he held himself up and persevered on. As they made their way back to the fire, Lafayette half-a-step behind his general, he felt the urge to just collapse and stay in the snow until it became warm.

 _But her. She is waiting for you._ The thoughts, although at first unwelcomed, made his heart beat stronger and faster as trudged through the snow. _Do not think of death. Do not think of Hell or Heaven. Think of her. Her green eyes, the smell of wind, the feel of her body against yours…_ but the image was slipping. It was in a blur, his imagination filling parts he couldn't quite place. He was roaring drunk after all. But he remembered confessing to their love, to kissing her, to feeling her heartbeat under his hand. And in acute recollection, he could remember every single word he had said before storming out of his apartment. His heart plummeted again and more than his stomach ached.

He was familiar with ambition. It had caused many men's downfall and few had just the right amount of it. But he also knew the desire to do something - to _refuse to just sit around_ while other people did work that you can do. That was why he was in America after all. He believed in their cause, that he could help win the war. Win _freedom._

So was it really so hard to forgive a woman for rising above her station? He swallowed to wet his dry throat as they finally reached where John Laurens was nearly asleep from telling how he was nearly kicked by a horse's hindquarters. The freckled man's eyes widened when he spotted the General and he stood, the blanket slipping off of him. Lafayette plopped on a rock beside the boy who had taken his seat. His eyes closed and for a moment, they were back in Albany - Alexander had just gotten married and the debonair Frenchman was dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.

Lafayette was familiar with forgiveness. It was one of the traits he held dear to his heart. It had caused many men's downfall and few had just the right amount of it. As he tried to rationalize her decision, he could feel his heart edging towards forgiveness.

 _Could he blame her for doing the exact same he was doing because of her sex?_ His eyes opened again and he saw George Washington's face, jaw set and masked with fearless hope and determination. John Laurens' eyes were wide and he even spotted Aaron Burr watching from a distance. _Absolutely not_.

 _December 26, 1780_

In her Continental Army uniform, she pulled the reins lightly. Her chestnut stallion whinnied as she arrived in Newport. The bustling activity and the smell of the ocean were the first things that came to her senses. Many looked at her as her horse trotted along to the harbor and she grinned at all the people who waved to her. Waving back, she continued down the path to the harbor. Many children came up to her and asked to pet her horse or ride him. She had to decline despite their puppy faces.

"I have to work," she said in explanation and their mouths popped open when they realized she was a woman. "Go back and play, maybe later." They acquiesced when the horse raised his head proudly. "Hey, boy," she rubbed his jaw and he nickered. "Come on, let's go meet Rochambeau."

Passing the square where merchants were bartering away their items. Snow fell around them heavily and she ducked her head, thankful for the hat she wore. Brushing stray flakes off her horse's mane, they continued on their way at a steady trot until she descended down to the harbor. At the end of the dock, she approached the man who looked out into the ocean. Dismounting, she wrapped the reins around her hand and lead the horse behind her.

" _Bonjour,_ _comte de_ Rochambeau _._ " He turned around with a smile. She had nearly forgotten what the man look like. Their previous meeting a week ago was brief and most of their time had been spent looking at the map. The only thing she could remember was his heavily accented English and long nose. Two eccentric golden-brown eyes turned to her and she nearly started. And the eyes. She definitely remembered his eyes.

"Oliver Smith, _oui?_ The one who will, ah," he looked up when he forgot the word, " _escort_ us to Washington."

"Yes except for my name." he raised an eyebrow at her voice, "Genevieve Alcott. We met last week."

"The blockade runner." He narrowed his eyes at her as if trying to see if they were the same person. "And you are a soldier?" the _comte_ asked after deciding that they were the one and same.

"It is a pretty common reaction to my profession." She joked and he laughed as the French ships laid down their anchors and began docking. The planks were lowered. "These are the ships, as promised?"

" _Oui._ Armed to the teeth." And Genevieve smiled as she saw soldiers wave from the ship, cheering and screaming. " _Franchement quelque chose, non?_ " A grin stretched her lips as they marched down the boats, chanting with unmatched enthusiasm.

" _Vive la révolution!"_

 **A/N: I actually feel like this is my worst chapter out of the current few. I'm sorry!** **You guys continually impress me with how much support you give me! Thank you so much!**

 **(EDIT: I realized now that my Valley Forge scene is really close to RebelFaerie's 'Oceans and Moments' Valley Forge scene. That was not intentional at all - I read that scene maybe over a few months ago and my brain must've just barfed it out. Again, apologies and I give all inspiration credit to RebelFaerie! CHECK HER OUT IF YOU HAVEN'T - THE WRITING IS AMAZING)**

 **Thank you:** **Potatoandanimelover, and NataliaRoma97 for following! Shannon the chameleon, cillaaviles, danceduck21, and maaike2.0 for favoriting! To The Captains Muse for doing both! To all the Guest reviewers, RiseUpWiseUp, BriCat03, Kitty of 2 kingdoms, and laurensturtle for reviewing!**

 **I'm going to be condensing reviews because it can get a bit repetitive. Don't worry - I love you all so much. You may say that this story is great, but in reality, my readers are what makes this story great.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Fireworks, woo! Thanks for reading!**

 **BriCat03: Ooh, Genette is a good one - I might consider that along with Genafette. Haha, I know. I was thinking about it that way but I decided, _naaaah._ I don't know if anyone will die _yet_ but it could happen in the future. Thank you for reviewing twice!**

 **Jaysong, Guest,** **laurensturtle, RiseUpWiseUp** **and Trinity Rebel: Thank you for all the compliments! It means the world to me when y'all say I have the potential or that it's like your oxygen that you need to breath. Like, I'm so truly flattered? I cannot explain how grateful I am?**

 **Why Not: I don't know. Perhaps his name will be Chestnut. Any other ideas for our horse friend?**


	9. Reunion

**Chapter 9: Reunion**

 _December 28, 1780_

They set off after a day's rest for the soldiers. Genevieve rented a room in a motel where she wrote a letter to her parents and the Schuylers. She had told them where she was going before she left but the brunette thought she should tell them where she was now - that she was going to set off for Valley Forge in the morning. She knew it would take around five days to arrive to George Washington's camp and that the winter was getting increasingly more harsh, evident by the trees snapping and branches nearly falling on people from the wind.

Waking at the crack of dawn, she descended the stairs and checked out, bringing her belongings with her in a pack that could rest behind her horse's saddle. Untying her horse from his post, she fed him a few apples and he nickered, nudging her shoulder for more. "I'll get you some oats soon," she promised and rubbed his nose. He snorted against her palm but allowed her to mount him anyway. Nudging his sides, they set off at a trot to the post office where she dropped off her letter before heading for the corner store. Casting a weary glance around her, she pondered on whether or not she should bring her bag.

Deciding to just in case, she slung it over her shoulder and went into the store. The goods were relatively low priced but many things that were going out of stock - the food - were higher than what she thought she could pay. Looking down the aisles, she found where the sack of oats were, the clinking of the British currency in her pocket taking the edge off her worries. Hoisting a bag over her shoulder, she went to the counter and paid for it as quickly as she could. The owner wasn't suspicious when she fumbled with the coins or her high voice but she felt like many customers stares burned into her back. It took all of her so that she didn't run.

Mounting her horse after making sure everything was in place, she began to set off for the warehouse near the harbor where the French army was lodging. Once there, she saw Rochambeau already up and ready, the French behind him. " _Prêt?_ " When she didn't understand, he scrambled for the right word.

"I'm ready, sir." She said, hazarding a guess. He smiled and soldiers began rallying behind them as they began their way to Valley Forge.

 _January 5, 1781_

They were almost there. Genevieve could feel it in her bones as she rode beside Rochambeau. Her horse huffed and tossed his head towards Rochambeau's black steed who snorted back. Morale was high as they sang a song in French behind them, the _comte_ joining in occasionally. Genevieve relished their enthusiasm - refreshing as it was - as they continued to ride. The snow was soft, a sight as rare as a blue moon, and the wind gently swept through her hair as she looked up. Despite the 'winter wonderland' like weather, the sky was not blue and the sun was hidden by the dark clouds. The days were getting shorter.

Taking a momentary break, she dismounted and rubbed her sore thighs as the men took out their portions of food. Letting her horse roam, she just listened to the mindless talk behind her and crunch of snow. Taking out a few dried cuts of meat, she walked a few meters away as she ate. Crouching down, she brushed her hand against the snow before straightening, the flakes melting quicker than a needle disappearing in a haystack.

" _C'est beau, non?_ " Turning around, she saw a nameless soldier approach her. He seemed kind enough and she saw the _comte_ talk to him a few times before.

" _Oui._ " She agreed in her limited French, crossing her arms and watching the snow. He stood beside her and she was acutely aware of that. "Is there something you want?"

" _Non._ I am just admiring the view," he was not nearly as smooth as he thought he was. Shrugging her sleeves so she could pull them to cover her cold hands, she scuffed her boot against the ground. " _Je m'appelle_ Louis-Philippe." She looked up at him and cocked her head.

"Nice to meet you." The brunette responded, "Genevieve Alcott."

"We all know you." He explained with an easy smile and she nodded. _Obviously,_ she thought dully as Rochambeau called her over.

"The Major General is calling me," she excused and the soldier nodded. "Sir?" She inquired as soon as she approached the Frenchman. He chuckled and looked over her shoulder. Turning, she felt a hand on her wrist and turned back. His golden eyes pierced hers, crinkling at the edges.

"Do not look. Louis is still watching." His face was schooled into a serious expression but there was a glint of amusement. "I overheard what he had said to his friends over there." There was a sharp jerk in the direction where a few young men were gathered, snickering to themselves. Getting the idea, she scowled.

"Should I announce to everyone in the camp that I'm not interested?" She asked with irritation and he laughed.

"No worry. They will stay away - Louis is one of the bolder ones. Cocky as well."

"A terrible combination," she agreed as he patted her on the shoulder. Glancing at the sky, she tried to determine what time it was. "Do you think we should go?"

" _Oui._ " Turning to his men, he shouted orders in French as she whistled her horse over. He raised his head from where he was grazing under a tree and trotted over, white mark under his neck flashing as he tossed his mane. Scratching under his chin, she glanced amusedly at the stallion before mounting him quickly. Glancing at the Major General, she waited for his signal as he mounted his black steed. At his nod, they began to set off on the path for Valley Forge.

"How much longer, do you think?"

"I thought you would know." Keeping her eyes ahead, she shrugged.

"I'm not familiar with this area but if I could guess - by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"That would be good." Her mind could almost picture Lafayette, his dark eyes alight with life and warm arms around her as he embraced her again. But the winter was harsh - still was - and…

 _What if he didn't even survive?_

No, she couldn't think of such thoughts. He was alive, _he would survive._ Digging her heels into her mount, she felt the wind pick up around her as he began at a trot to scout ahead. Breathing in the stinging cold wind, she felt her lungs burn and heart race. _He is alive. Stay alive._

 _January 6, 1781_

The army woke at the crack of dawn, ready to leave immediately as they began to march the rest of the way to the encampment. This time, she rode among the other soldiers, chatting as much as she could with their various ranges of English. She learnt many of their names, too many to count, and their families waiting for them at home. As they began to ascend a hill, she was suddenly aware of Louis riding beside her. " _Bonjour._ " _Some men don't quit._ She thought and rolled her eyes inconspicuously.

"Morning," she greeted politely as she could. The weak sun's rays made the snow shine like crystals, untouched by man and horse alike. Despite her urges to just enjoy the sight, the frost-sharp wind and bitter sky showed that they didn't have time to lose. Instead, she gently nudged her horse's side to speed up into a trot. "How are you?"

" _Bien. Et toi?"_

"Fine." His eyes scanned her figure and she managed to hold back a scowl. The summit was just within reach, perhaps a few more minutes. Her horse snorted as if he didn't like the soldier either. She chuckled and scratched behind his ears as a soldier riding up ahead screamed something in French. She only understood Washington but she can guess what he had said as they began streaming down the hill, a thundering of cheers and hooves storming down the hill.

.

Lafayette woke up with a start as John grinned at his expression. His lungs gasped for air, scratching his throat as he tried to ignore the squirming, hollow feeling in his gut. "Get up, Lancelot. The French are coming," his foggy mind barely registered the words as he took John's proffered hand to help him up. His fingers felt brittle as he held onto his friend's hand and blinked blearily.

" _Que?"_ He felt his joints crack and the cold, wearing his bones down, cut into him repeatedly but whatever he was about to say was shadowed by the loud rumbling. "What is that?"

"The French," John repeated and they began to make their way to the entrance of the encampment where George was already waiting. There was a large crowd on horses galloping towards them. Many soldiers were brightened with renewed courage as a chestnut steed lead the pack. The rider wasn't wearing the French colors, instead the Continental Army uniform. Lafayette blinked repeatedly as they came closer, unsure if he was hallucinating to hunger and the cold. Rochambeau rode equally as fast beside the soldier, black steed stark against the white snow.

There were cheers as the French poured into the camp. His eyes followed the Continental Army soldier as she lead her horse along the _comte._ Washington looked up at them and the navy-clad soldier dismounted. "George Washington," she offered a hand to shake and the General raised his eyebrows.

"Oliver Smith. Though, I suppose that isn't the case anymore." Lafayette heard him say as the soldiers around him, malnourished and hungry began to socialize with the new soldiers. He made his way over to Washington, Alexander and John at his side.

"I guess not," the woman affirmed quietly and she raised her chin, "Genevieve Alcott."

"I'll request to see you later, then." She swallowed nervously and nodded.

"Of course, sir."

"Washington, do you know what this woman has done?" Rochambeau cut in and the tall man looked over at the shorter one. Washington lead Rochambeau away towards his cabin and Genevieve turned to watch them. Lafayette took another hesitant step, warmer than he had been in weeks. Her green eyes were full of uncertainty and she took a half-conscious step back towards Rochambeau's retreating figure when she realized that they were closer than she had anticipated before dragging her gaze to John and Alexander.

"Genny," Alexander opened his arms but she didn't immediately go into his embrace. "I didn't know you were a soldier - didn't you trust me?" He didn't sound particularly offended, a teasing glint in his eyes. John snorted and nudged his friend in the ribs. Flinching, Alexander pushed John away from him jokingly. Lafayette's tongue was twisted, unable to join in with the camaraderie. There was nothing to say.

"Is it smarter to tell the truth or to hide it? I didn't know you, remember?" She tried to take on a joking tone as well but it didn't work and her eyes flickered down to her shoes. "Eliza sends her love."

"Not a day has passed where I don't think of her," he promised. "Come on, John and I'll show you where you're gonna sleep. With us, obviously." The two turned but she was stood in her spot. Her eyes flickered back to Lafayette, eyes scanning her face.

"Lafayette," she mumbled quietly. Her hand twitched as if she were about to reach out for him but stopped herself in time. Instead, it balled into a fist and she just sighed. "I'm sorry." The brunette said instead. His dark eyes met hers. There was maybe a slight ounce of regret but pride overtook any and all of it. He knew she didn't regret what she did. And neither did he.

"How?" He rasped and she tried to smile but it came off as a grimace. He knew the feeling well. A smile unpracticed was not a welcomed feeling.

"Thank Philip Schuyler," her head tilted just so and he would've kissed her if he could. If his mind could just _let_ him. "All it took was a distraction." This time, the smile came more naturally but it was more of a moment unable to be framed - too quick to be sure if it even happened.

"Genny, come on!" Her eyes drifted over his shoulder and she nodded firmly. Reaching out for his arm, she held onto his bicep. When he began to pull away, instead, her hand caught his. Clasping it, she squeezed it to get his attention. Again, his eyes met hers, but this time, they showed no pride, only apologies and unconditional love. One that said, _I'll be okay._

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find the right words to say, before: "I love you."

"I know." He did. He wanted to say he did too but the words caught in the back of his throat. He blamed it on the dry winter air.

"Then... if you can't forgive me, then just know that." With one last final glance, she trudged past him in the snow and made her way towards John and Alexander.

 _February 25, 1781_

She shifted on her cot and opened her eyes, sleep evading her. Sitting up, she tried not to make any sound when she heard Louis shift on the other side of the tent. By now, they'd built a hospital-like cabin for the sick and enough to house most of the officers. That didn't stop the four of them from taking nights between outside and the warm cabin. Tonight, she was outside with Louis while Lafayette, Alexander and John shared a cabin.

There was still a silence, a rather long one. While their interactions with John and Alexander were friendly, whenever one was to face the other, the former lovers barely spoke a word. They were never in a room together alone. Her heart ached every day he didn't speak to her - only a few glances. _It's my fault. It's my fault._ She told herself - the cold shoulder on his side was warranted. Alexander and John did their best to fix it but had long since given up when one of their attempts consisting of trying to leave the two alone on a patrol had ended with John nipped at by Genevieve's horse.

Snores filled the tent and she slipped on her boots, careful not to disturb anyone's belongings as she wrapped her coat around her tightly and stepped outside. Letting out a shaky breath, she saw her breath puff out in front of her and made her way to her friends' tent. Her boots crunched in the snow but the wind covered her steps. The camp was quiet, hauntingly so. Dark clouds covered the sky but she could catch a glimpse of the moon, still glowing radiantly. Finding her friends' cabin, she walked up to it, hoping to catch Alexander awake at the desk. He had promised to write a letter to Eliza earlier that day.

Opening the door quietly, she winced when it creaked. Warm air brushed against her face as she slipped in, closing it again. It was completely dark save for the lit candle in the back corner. Shapes on the cots didn't move at her entrance and she barely saw an outline of John in the nearest bed.

Looking towards the candle, she saw long fingers curl around its holder and hold it up, illuminating the face of Lafayette. Like a deer caught, she froze and met his eyes nervously. Her hand rested on the door again and she prepared to leave when a voice made her rethink her actions.

"What are you doing?" Turning around, she looked at Lafayette, corners of her mouth quirking up. He blinked tiredly at her, settling the candle holder back on the desk near his bed. An uncapped inkwell and its partner quill laid near it. _Alex must've been exhausted._ She mused thoughtfully. "Genevieve? What are you doing here?"

"You should be asleep," she murmured instead of answering. "I'll just go."

"Stay." He insisted quietly and the brunette raised an eyebrow. This was the most they've said to each other since she had returned. Toeing off her boots, she walked over to him, full of uncertainty. John let out a groan in his sleep and turned away. Sending him an amused glance, she sat on the edge of Lafayette's bed. He lifted the blanket and shifted over, and she sent him a dubious look. "How are you liking the new training regiment?"

"Is this what this is about?" She asked, gesturing between them and the bed. "If so, then it's fine. Major General Friedrich drills us hard - teaches us how to wield those bayonets." She tried to stop the scowl that appeared on her face. Her memory of the weapon was not a happy one. "Guess we need it."

" _Oui,_ I suppose so." He agreed half-heartedly, looking at the space between them. She scooted closer to the head of the bed and gingerly put her feet up, balancing on the edge precariously. "You can move closer." The man offered.

She didn't.

Although the cabin was indeed warmer than outside, she still felt a chill run up and down her spine when his hand clamped around her arm. She nearly flinched but managed to hold back the urge, her heart hammering as his fingers gently brushed over her right sleeve. He was leaned over, one elbow propping him up as he studied her face. Meeting his dark eyes, she nearly drowned in the molasses-like tint of his irises. Without her even noticing it, his hand gently tugged at her sleeve and he broke away their staring contest.

Pulling her arm away, Genevieve could feel his stare on her again but this time, didn't meet it. "Are you cold?" He asked quietly, hand still where hers once was.

Murmuring a reply, "No," she sighed. "Lafayette,"

" _Oui_?" His voice wasn't weaved with hurt, instead, it was soft and genuinely curious. This time, she allowed him to place his hand on hers. The warmth of his hand, such a disparity to her still-icy hands, draped over her skin and he intertwined their fingers.

"If you could do anything different," she looked into the small flame of the candle, facing away from him so she couldn't see whatever expression settling on her face, "would you?" There was a palpable silence where she thought he had merely ignored her question - purposefully or not. There was a feeling inside of her that weighed down her stomach, at the apprehension of his answer. His thumb traced absent circles on the back of her hand, over the knuckles he had frequently kissed, both in teasing and in genuine adoration.

"No. I do not think so." With his answer, was relief that flooded her bones. "Any thing I change means the possibility of not meeting you."

"Aren't you quite the smooth talker." She turned back to him and settled on her side. His hand traveled up her arm hesitantly, eyes asking for consent. Nodding, she watched him pull her sleeve up to reveal the pink, waxy scar. Goosebumps rose around it, out of coldness or the way his skin whispered over her arm like a feather, she didn't know.

"It is in my blood," he quipped. "The doctor said he had to disinfect and cauterize the wound." The _marquis_ traced the expanse of the scar and she watched him curiously. "I am sorry that such pain was _awarded_ to you for your service." His tone was dry and she stifled a smile.

"And I remember you screaming as they dug a bullet out of you." He winced at the memory and she squeezed his hand to distract him, "Better me than someone else, anyhow. I had a reason to live." She murmured and he looked up at her. Her hand ran through his wild hair and cupped his jaw. The cicatrix under his eye was fading but she could still barely make it out in the darkness of their cabin. "My family, this idiotic French debonair." He exhaled a breathy laugh. "What can I say? Some men have a cavalier way of handling their bodies."

"Are you talking about me, _mademoiselle?_ " He asked in faux outrage and the corners of both of their lips quirked up. Her green eyes alight with amusement, she thumbed his cheek.

"Perhaps." She allowed and his smile grew. Conversation was so easy, _familiar._ God, she had missed this.

"But I have something to live for as well." He reminded her and heat pooled in her cheeks. Then, she was thankful for the shadow of night. He pulled down the sleeve but she could still feel the tingling sensation he had trailed across her skin. "Gen,"

Snapping out of her daze, she looked at him. "Yes?"

"Sleep. It'd be more reckless not to, right?" He flopped down on his cot, resting his head on his hands, elbows bent to the sides. He left room for her and she slowly lowered herself to the cot. Licking the pads of her index finger and thumb, she extinguished the light with a pinch of the flame. There was a silence for more than a few minutes where Genevieve felt another wind swirl around in their cabin, sneaking under her shirt and the expanse of her neck. "Are you cold?"

He didn't allow her time for a response, only wrapped one arm around her small set of shoulders and pulled her towards him. He lifted the blanket haphazardly and she aided him, the threadbare material rough against her fingers. Letting it drop, he made sure that it completely covered her before lying back down with a slight huff. Her blood warmed and her eyes slid closed as she kept her hands to her chest, unsure of what to do. His heart thudded slowly against her knuckles, and his chest rose and fell with every calm breath. He tilted his head towards her, nose brushing against her hairline as his hand rubbed her arm.

Groaning, Lafayette shifted his weight to his side, flinging his other arm over her in a bear hug. Opening her eyes drowsily, she came closer. In this warm cocoon, Genevieve had never felt so at home in his arms than then. He kissed her hair and she hesitantly slithered an arm over his waist. Was such affection normal during wartime? If so, why did it feel so _strange_? Or was it really because it felt like forgiveness that radiated off his being? Whatever it was, it wasn't a feeling she felt abhorrently for. "Lafayette?"

A hum in his chest told her that he had heard her. His chin rested on her head and she was tucked into his chest, like two pieces of a puzzle. _What God have I pleased to deserve you?_ She asked in her mind as her breath fanned against his neck. His arms tightened around her and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Goodnight."

" _Je t'aime, ma chérie._ Goodnight."

 _May 20, 1781_

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Genevieve asked as she rode beside Lafayette. The two of them plus another 2,100 soldiers had traveled to the Barren Hill on the orders of George Washington himself. They took up a position on the Hill, close enough to Matson's Ford. They paused and dismounted, letting their horses graze and wander as soldiers followed suit behind them. They took drinks from their water skins and rested in the shade of the church as the _marquis_ looked away from where he used the telescope and nodded.

" _Oui._ Washington is 'contemplating the contingency of an early withdrawal from Philadelphia.'" He quoted in a horrible American accent and she shook her head with a smile. "We're just going to recon the British intentions and to-"

"Cut off the patrols foraging in the countryside, I know." She finished for him. He kept a hand on his sword's shaft. "I just have a bad feeling about this." Taking the telescope from him, she spotted the artillery guns near the church on high ground with a unit of soldiers. "The brigade at Ridge Road are looking testy. Don't think they enjoy the hot weather." In the shade of the church, they were provided some comfort but the posting at Ridge Road were out in the sun. The sweltering heat would lead to short tempers later. Genevieve wrinkled her nose at the thought of dealing with a chagrined Louis-Phillipe.

"It's better than an ambush." Lafayette mounted his dun and she followed after him on her chestnut stallion. Ordering a small patrol to follow them, he allowed the other soldiers to rest as they rode for Matson's Ford. Her horse nickered as a light wind swept through the unit and she sighed at the slight relief. Patrolling the empty streets was made difficult when the horses would make too much of a fuss. Dismounting, she grabbed the chestnut's reins and guided him along as they went down the different alleys. Genevieve watched Lafayette ride on ahead and disappear down a road she had previously not seen. It was so well hidden that when he reappeared, she thought that it was merely a mirage. _Maybe the heat's getting to me._

"Laf?" A mischievous smile on his face, he jerked his head towards the road.

"Follow me. It's a path back to Barren Hill." He explained and she sent him a strange look, following him as they began to climb back to their outpost. Looking back, she realized that it was a good place for some cover. "And a quick route to Matson's Ford."

"Genius." She drawled sarcastically but smiled genuinely. Her horse let out a neigh as if to agree and Lafayette sent her a smirk. She would pay for that later. As they stopped at Barren Hill, they broke out a few rations of dried nuts and meat. Setting down at the trunk of a tree, she watched her horse graze near Lafayette's dun. Chewing on a stick of dried meat, she watched the other soldiers talk amongst themselves.

"I am a genius." Lafayette plopped down next to her, the rear skirt of his tailcoat fanning out behind him. "Would you love me if I wasn't?" Chuckling, she bent her knees and rested her arms on them, hands lax between her legs. Her fingers bent the dried piece of meat in a fidgety manner as he sidled in closer. Their knees knocked into each other and she looked up at him. " _Tu vas bien?_ "

"I'm fine." She gave a smile but he didn't look convinced. Eating away the rest of her ration, she looked back at the grass between her boots. She wondered what would happen after the war - the end seemed so close yet so far. _What would I do? What would Lafayette do? Will he return to France or…_ she looked at him as he played with a few blades of grass between his fingers, _will he stay?_ There were so many unanswered questions. Then, she met his dark eyes and her doubts didn't seem as scary. _Whatever happens, I won't stop loving this man._ She mused as his fingers brushed against her jaw.

Tugging her jaw, he brought her closer and she let him kiss her gently. After their reconciliation, moments of peace were still few and far between. They had to take what they were given. "Whatever happens, know that I love you." He murmured as if sensing her thoughts. Reaching to hold his wrist, she leaned into the warmth of his palm as he cupped her cheek. "Even if I die-"

"I know." She promised, "I know." The dark-eyed man smiled weakly and kissed her again. Wrapping an arm around her, he scooted up to lean against the tree as she slouched against him. Settling into a comfortable position, she looked up at him. "Lafayette?"

" _Oui_?" His fingers played with the ends of her hair absently as many soldiers paused to look at them.

"I love you." She murmured and he smiled softly.

" _Je sais._ " He assured and she blinked up at him, kissing his jaw before pushing herself up and leaving the major general in the shade. He watched as she talked to her horse absently, brushing his mane with her fingers as the horse nudged the woman's foot out of the way of some grass. Chuckling, he was about to join his men in the dying sun when there was a loud shout. The men immediately picked up their guns by their feet and Genevieve paused, hand going to where a pistol was at her belt. Lafayette took out his telescope, scanning for whatever was the cause when he spotted a man in the Continental Army blue.

"Major General Lafayette!" He yelled. Genevieve immediately ran down to help the man climb the hill and Lafayette followed after, wrapping an arm around the injured man. "Ridge Road," the patriot wheezed, "the British have advanced."

"What?" Some of the men chorused as another patriot on a horse galloped to meet them. The soldiers burst into chatter as Genevieve turned to the unit.

"To arms!" She commanded and they gathered their belongings as the second patriot atop a horse began to report back to Lafayette.

"A battalion of 5,000, sir. The militia down at White Marsh Road have deserted. We have no chance!"

"I left a small group to delay the British but they can't hold off for long."

"They're coming for _you_." The two messengers finished simultaneously and Lafayette scowled, turning back to his men. They were all ready to leave as he thought quickly. Glancing at the church, he raked his gaze over the troops and guns that they had brought. _Merde._ He growled inwardly. Thinking quickly, he remembered the small road to Matson's Ford.

"Gather your men," he ordered and the two messengers nodded, "and meet me here. I have an idea."

.

"I'm staying." She growled and Lafayette raised his eyebrows, incredulous as soldiers ran to the end of the street past them. Some of the French stood to the side and watched as a patrol of men ran in the opposite direction. "We need a guard at the church, just like you said. I can do it."

"Not you-"

"If I can't fight, what's the point of me being here?" She asked sharply. "I won't be leading a patrol to skirmish, I'll only be guarding. I promise." His grip on her wrist didn't falter and she held his arm, looking at him. They were clear and confident, but it still didn't stem his fears. "Lafayette, I can do this, alright?" She looked at the French who nodded back. "These are _my men._ Now keep _your men_ safe." Conflicted, Lafayette looked between her and the waiting men before giving the go ahead.

"Stay safe."

"No promises." She said grimly and began to ran the way they came, throwing an arm that way to gesture to the French to follow. They let out a shout and followed her against the other soldiers as she spotted another group of people up ahead running down the road to where the British were. Lafayette had briefly explained that he'd send out patrols to give the illusion that they were staying to fight. All they had to do was stand by the church and make sure that the British wouldn't stop the fleeing men.

Running up the hill, she raised her musket and waved her hand for the men to get into positions. Swallowing, she held her gun steady and just tried to block out any thoughts that would distract her.

 **A/N: Woot! I hope you enjoyed! Anyway, I just wanna say thank you so much for the continuous support! I love you all! Chapters might come a bit slower since I'm running out of pre-written ones. If I do take a break, never ask if this story is discontinued. The chances of me discontinuing are fairly low.**

 **Thank you:** **OnarchyAnarchy, OreoKitteh, sophlikes** **marvel (sorry! If I add the periods, it'll delete your name!)** **for following! BriCat03 for favoriting and reviewing! And Kitty of 2 kingdoms for reviewing as well!**

 **REVIEWS**

 **BriCat03: I like to think that Lafayette is like Eliza in a way. They forgive their loved ones for even the crappiest things. In other words, he's a fricken cinnamon roll and I love him very much. Thank you so very much for reading so faithfully!**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: I don't think Lafayette is one to out someone like that. She's made her gender very clear in this chapter but that doesn't mean men don't judge her. That'll be next chapter. Yeah, I added as a note that the reason it's so familiar is because I read RebelFaerie's "Oceans and Moments" fic and my brain regurgitated the elements of it. So... yeah, awkward. I totally didn't mean to do that and I'm kinda frustrated but at the same time too lazy to rewrite it because I'm still working on chapter 10. Thank you for reading, though!**


	10. Monmouth

**A/N: Warning: Some swears! Anyway, this might be my last chapter in a while. Keep an eye out on my profile for the progress of the next chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Monmouth**

 _June 28, 1781_

"I don't like Lee." Genevieve said bluntly as she shed her jacket in the hundred degree heat. Sweat poured down her brow and the wind barely covered her shining neck. Her hair, which had been tucked into a hat, didn't stick to her face but she still felt the itch on the corner of her lip and the strands sticking to her neck and cheeks. Wiping at her temple, she looked at Lafayette who had stripped down to just a vest as well. His arms were covered in sweat and he wasn't so lucky, standing in the bare sun. While her hat had suffered rain damage as well as a few tears here and there, his was relatively untouched throughout the winter which lead to their situation now.

He had given her his hat without a second glance and she felt guilty. At first, there was an argument, ranting, minor French, and pulling the 'you lied to me' card on Lafayette's part. It ended with his hat on her head and a displeased expression etched on her face. She hated him for it.

No, she didn't.

"Neither do I," he admitted. "It took a battalion of 5,000 and the fact that I would've lead the unit in his stead to make him insist for command." His voice was quiet and strained as he forced himself to keep going. Their horses had been left to some of the other soldiers. Now, she cursed in her mind every minute or so when she tripped on air or her toe caught on a rock. Blinking hard, she saw dots blur her vision and she wiped the wet drops away from her eyes.

"Do you need water?" She asked quietly, looking at the women behind them. They would serve them water if they needed it during the battle but they were just as tired as the army was. "Lafayette…"

"I'm fine." She scowled at his defiant response. Spotting Alexander ahead of them just a few paces with a waterskin, Genevieve pushed herself the last few steps in a run. Her gut dropped at the sudden movement and her stomach heaved but she swallowed dryly, tongue thick in her mouth. John sent her a half-hearted smile from where he walked next to Alexander but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Alexander," she panted and he nodded. No words were needed and he took one last swig of water before passing it to her. Thanking him, she tipped it into her mouth clumsily, feeling the cold water drip down her chin and neck before retreating back to Lafayette. "You need to drink."

"Gen-"

"Lafayette, you're going to collapse." She reprimanded and he looked like he was. His posture was slouched and he was drenched in sweat. Holding out the water to him, she pinned him with a green glare. " _Drink,_ " Finally, he reached for it shakily and brought it to his lips. "I can't have you dying on me, alright?" She murmured and he nodded, exhausted. Taking off her hat, she grimaced when her hair stuck to her wet skin.

The _marquis_ saw what she was doing and nearly choked on the mouthful of water. It dribbled out of his mouth as he capped the waterskin and passed it to the next soldier. " _Qu'est-ce que tu fais?"_ He asked, unnerved. Tightening her ponytail, she shook her head and gave him the tricorne, fitting it over his hair somehow. He gave her an incredulous glance but she smiled tightly. "You're-"

"I'll be fine. You're the one who can barely keep up." She shot back sharply and he caved as George Washington turned to look at them with a sympathetic glint in his eyes. The General himself was coated in sweat as they saw how close they were to where the British were down Monmouth road.

"Water break." The order was quiet but it swept over the army as they stumbled into the shade, pulling their shirts from their sweaty chests and fanning themselves. The women immediately began to search for a nearby water supply and the soldiers settled down their muskets, using their jackets as towels to wipe away sweat.

Lafayette groaned and she immediately came to his side, ignoring how sticky and damp they both were. His arm wrapped around her back as they stumbled toward the shade of a tree where John and Alexander were. The two of them were lying down as if dead when John raised his head. "Hey, he alright?"

"No. Help him down," Alexander sat up as John helped Genevieve put him down. "He needs more water and shade."

"Heat exhaustion?"

"Definitely. The idiot gave me his hat," she murmured, wiping away any sweat from his skin with her jacket. When Lafayette opened his eyes tiredly, he grinned loosely at Genevieve. The women returned with skins full of water and cloths in hand, and Alexander waved one over.

"Thank you." The dark-haired man muttered as he tipped the skin into Lafayette's mouth. "You're right."

"That he's an idiot?" John asked as the Frenchman's eyes slowly opened wider. He flopped back onto his back with a sigh, lungs expanding as he gulped in air. Genevieve snorted, holding onto the man's hand as Washington began to make his way towards them.

"That it's heat exhaustion?" She said instead and Alexander grinned.

"Both." He affirmed. "God, it's getting hot." The Caribbean-born man pulled his shirt away from his chest and began to repeat the action to make some wind. Genevieve tugged her hair away from her skin.

"Shouldn't you be used to it by now?" John asked teasingly, throwing a lazy look his way. "You lived in the Caribbean,"

"Shouldn't you be used to Peggy writing you?" Alexander shot back, "Instead, you act like a five year old who got what he wanted for Christmas." A darker flush invaded the freckled man's cheeks and it wasn't from the heat. Chuckling, she made a point of changing the subject to their current journey.

"How much longer, you think?"

"Better yet, how do you think Lee is doing?" John looked relieved and sent her a grateful glance, asking the question quickly before Alexander could think of another response.

"Lee's an idiot." She said brusquely, letting Lafayette rest his head in her lap. Popping off his hat, she set it beside her and continued to pat away any sweat from his brow. John laughed but it quickly faded when a shadow, darker than the shade they were in, loomed over the four.

"Careful who you're speaking about," Washington warned. Alexander scowled and looked away as Genevieve met her general's dark eyes.

"Apologies, sir." She amended and he nodded. "But it's not like you trust him anyway." The General shook his head slightly and the brunette glanced at the soldier in her lap. "Major General Lafayette's a bit under the weather." The brunette added when his gaze drifted to the now-dozing man in her lap. "Heat exhaustion." The waterskin was still in Alexander's hands and John sat up, stole it from his best friend and offered it to the general.

"Water, sir?" He asked hopefully, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Thank you, but no, Lieutenant Colonel. We depart in twenty."

"Yes, sir." They chorused with the exception of the one soldier who was unconscious. John drank from the waterskin before offering it to Genevieve who took a few swigs. "What's that about?" She asked with a point at Alexander who looked like he was throwing a tantrum. The man sat against the tree's base, arms crossed and knees bent. A scowl and furrowed brows finished off the look of a spoiled child who didn't get what he wanted. It nearly made her laugh.

"Promoted Charles Lee instead of him." John smiled, "He's having a hissy fit."

"I am not." growled Alexander but the two laughed anyway. The intelligent man leaned forward to snatch the waterskin from Genevieve's hands and drank from it greedily. "Yes, I am. It's fucking Charles Lee. The man who was captured by the British and for all we know, traded away _our secrets_. I don't know what the General is thinking."

"Uh-huh." John drawled, eyes closed as he laid back down. The freckled man seemed to be trying to doze off as the man in her lap began to stir.

" _Que?_ " Lafayette mumbled sleepily and Genevieve gave him a warm smile. "It is a good sight to wake up to, _ma belle._ " Chuckling, Genevieve bent at her waist and kissed Lafayette's brow. Helping him slowly rise into a sitting position, she made sure he was steady and shot a playful glare when John and Alexander pretended to gag. " _Très marrant._ " He drawled sarcastically, "You and Mrs. Hamilton are far worse, I am sure."

"'Liza and I are married. We have the right."

"And do John and a certain Margarita Schuyler have that right as well?" Lafayette countered which only brought memories of their last conversation topic. Alexander and Genevieve shared bright grins as John let out a frustrated groan. "He writes to a Schuyler more than you do, Alexander."

"I suppose so. John?"

"It's _nothing._ Swear it on my life." He insisted, raising his head with a beet-red face. As the two best friends bickered, Genevieve turned to Lafayette who smiled slightly at their banter. Already, he appeared better.

"Already up and making witty remarks. There's the Lafayette I remember," she remarked and he turned to her, a apologetic smile on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck and she narrowed her eyes. "Take care of yourself, please? We can't have one of our Major Generals suffering from heat illness." He nodded and she sighed. What was the point? The man was probably going to be unconsciously putting himself on the brink of danger twenty different times on the battlefield. She had to remind herself that they were both still young. They had the freedom to do whatever they want.

The _marquis_ reached for her and she allowed him to stroke comforting circles on the back of her hand. He bent his right knee and rested his arm on the joint, bending his other knee on the ground so his foot could slip between his foot and his thigh in a relaxed, languid position.* Genevieve smiled to herself. It was the most relaxed he had been since the Battle of Barren Hill.

" _Anyway_ ," the curly-haired man broke off his argument with Alexander loudly and glanced at the couple. "We need you in tip-top shape, Major General." John teased, hands behind his head. His knees were bent and Alexander reposed an arm on one, leaning against it casually. The waterskin hung from his hand lazily and Lafayette grabbed it with the hand he had laid on his knee. His other propped him up as he uncapped it with his thumb.

" _Oui_. That's why I'll drink the rest of this now." He gave them a smirk and began to pretend to chug down the water. John raised his head with panic but groaned when he realized the man was joking. "It's always fun to fool you, Laurens."

"Look here, _Marie._ " Genevieve laughed when John used one of Lafayette's names. Of course John would pick _Marie._ The look in Lafayette's eyes screamed murder as Alexander switched between staring between the two to meet Genevieve's eyes. There was a short silence before the three of them burst out laughing, much to Lafayette's displeasure.

Her gut hurt from laughing as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a sour look and she brushed her lips against his. Grimacing when her hand brushed against his sweaty neck out of instinct, the two broke apart. "Come on, Lafayette. He's only joking."

"Or am I?" John cleared his throat. "I'm not the one who just passed out in the sun." He smirked to the air from where he was still lying on his back as Alexander rolled his eyes. Lafayette's eyes widened in slight outrage and Genevieve sighed, burying her face in her hands. _Here we go again._

 _._

They finally made their way farther up the Monmouth Road. The main force's morale was much higher after the break and while they were already sweating like no tomorrow, the water that trickled down their throats took the edge off exhaustion. Finally, George Washington called for a halt and Genevieve shared a few glances with her friends.

"Genny, look." John nudged her and she followed his line of sight. Alexander looked furious and Lafayette seemed to pass into a state of unimpressed and infuriated. "Charles Lee. Well, I'll be damned."

"What are you doing, Lee?" George roared, riding ahead and the main force followed after. Charles Lee's battalion was running for their lives as the British nipped on their heels, gunshots firing across the hot day. It was as if the bullets themselves were lethargic, the thick, humid air slowing their travel . As they came closer, the retreating soldiers seemed to cower under the General's thunderous expression.

"There's so many of them!" The man screamed as if that were an excuse. Washington reared his horse and turned to the rested army who stood at the ready. Some of the men in Lee's command held the British back as the General began to command his army.

"Take up positions further west!" He ordered and the other generals began to depart, screaming orders to their legions. Hamilton was beside the magnificent white horse, and she saw from his triumphant expression that Lee was getting the berating he deserved. "What is the meaning of this, sir? I desire to know the meaning of this disorder and confusion!"

Lee flushed but managed to glare at the General, "The American troops could not stand the British bayonets." He snapped in a peremptory tone. Genevieve turned to begin to march up west. Lafayette stayed behind with Washington and she sent him a glance. He nodded before turning back to the arguing leaders.

"You damned poltroon, you never tried them!"** Washington screamed as Lee began to finally have a slip on his defenses. "Hamilton!"

"Ready, sir."

"Have Lafayette take the lead."

"Yes, sir!" And the battle recommenced. Washing rallied the scrambling troops before screaming profanities at Charles Lee. Genevieve followed General Greene across the west. Washington's colorful vocabulary followed her even after she was a distance away.

.

The battle ended just after dark. Washington wanted to continue, but the darkness brought an end to it, as well as a cooler wind. Genevieve felt as if her head was floating as the women brought water to the dying soldiers. She collapsed against a dead horse, her muscles screaming in relief as she watched from a distance, the General speak to Nathanael Greene and Stirling.

Her eyes closed for a moment and the seductive pulls of sleep tugged at her consciousness. Blinking it away, she looked out into the barren field. Bodies littered the ground and from the ratio of blood to bodies, she could tell that more soldiers died from the scorching heat than bullets.

"Water?" The brunette looked up dazedly when a younger woman smiled at her. It reminded her of Ettie back home - they looked around the same age. "Are you alright?" Nodding slowly, she reached out an arm for the water before tipping it into her parched throat.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she rasped and the woman smiled again before returning to the hospital tent they had set up for the wounded. Leaning against the dead mammal, she rested her head on the still flank. Her joints cracked and her hair was becoming loose from its tight ponytail. Genevieve didn't really believe she could move. Soldiers hauled themselves around as they set up camp, clearing away bodies and setting up tents. _I can do this, I can do this._ She echoed to herself, pushing herself up with a crack of the knees. Immediately, her muscles screamed ' _What are you doing?'_ but she urged herself towards the centre of camp, waterskin in hand.

"Genny!" Her head turned and saw John offering a drained smile. His head was wrapped clumsily with a spare cloth. He obviously did it himself. "You made it."

"Yeah." She agreed, "Your head alright?"

"Just a scrape." He waved the matter away.

And Alex?"

"Fine. Nearly dropped dead out of exhaustion, though. Lafayette?" His inquire was genuinely curious. As she drank from the pouch of water, she eyed the freckled man, but she felt her heart drop at the inquiry. Water went down the wrong pipe and up into her nose. Sputtering, she tried to stifle her choking coughs. "Genny?"

"You mean - wait, you haven't seen him?" Her voice was rough with worry. Wiping away the cold spring water, she raked her gaze over the men in camp. He had suffered one attack of heat illness that day. His chance of having another… _Where are you, where are you?_

"No, I haven't. Haven't seen him since noon before the battle." _Oh, Jesus._ "Genny, he can't be-"

"Heat exhaustion, John." She looked at him, a ring of white around her irises. "It's Lafayette. Don't you think that maybe he wouldn't stop fighting until we at least have a stalemate against the British?"

"He's okay. John sighed, tired as she was. Genevieve wanted nothing more than for the day to be over. "Lafayette is resistant. He's a smart man." He placed a hand on her shoulder and she met his eyes dubiously. "He'll be fine. Come on. You need something to eat."

"John-"

"You'll feel better once you do." He guided her towards one of the few fires where Alexander was already sitting, a bowl of black pepper soup cupped in his hands. Trying to stifle the growing worry that was tightening her throat, she sat down on the ground and extended her hands to the fire as wind swept through her hair. Bringing her knees to her chest, she wrapped an arm around her legs while her other took the bowl of soup offered to her.

After ten minutes or so passed, there was a loud yell. Men looked up and Genevieve hovered over the pistol she sat beside. "Get a doctor!" The voice continued and when the shadows became more distinct, she realized it was a patrol of men that had gone out to search for any survivors just as she had returned to their camp. Two soldiers had a man in between them as they basically dragged the body towards the fire. The doctor appeared at the entrance of his tent, disgruntled but raised his eyebrows when he saw the state of the body. Other men carried heavily injured soldiers between them and they transferred them to makeshift gurneys.

The soldiers who weren't as injured began to haul them towards the hospital tent. John's hand clamped on hers, trying to ground her as Alexander stood, going over to help. "Genny." Her name sounded far away.

Genevieve's heart stopped beating and any words she wanted to say died in her throat. The two men brought the slouched man closer and closer, each step a heavy one. His messy hair hid his face, a rip in his uniform showing a messily bandaged wound. Blood was bleeding through the dirty cloth and another cut scored across his thigh dripped the dark liquid. The doctor immediately disappeared inside the tent to get everything ready. They were only a few steps from the tent when the man slipped from the two soldier's grip and he landed with a dull _thump_ on the ground.

The whole camp was sluggish with exhaustion - Genevieve couldn't blame them. But at that moment, the cocktail of worry and anger made her head spin.

"Major General!" A few shouts caused her to snap back into reality. Her eyes trained on the man lying unconscious on the cold floor. His face was covered in blood, splattering across his nose and cheeks and closed eyelids. Genevieve couldn't pinpoint the exact feeling of absolute dread nor did she know how to describe it other than the looming uncertainty if he would survive was choking her and the way her heart was being squeezed tighter than she could comprehend. Her limbs lost energy, her chest bloomed with pain and her head was dizzy with fear.

Forcing herself to move, she jerked up and ran towards them as his two supports began to haul him back up. His lip was cut and his eyes were closed. She wasn't even sure if he was _breathing_ \- if _she_ was breathing.

Swallowing the tough knot in her throat, she attempted to follow them in but two arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. Straining against it, she threw an icy glare over her shoulder. John frowned back at her and for the first time, she noted how blurry his face was. "John!" The voice that met her ears was strained and shaking. Her face was hot and her eyes were stinging as John pulled her away, back to the fire. Grunting against her constraints, she felt his muscles tighten. "John, _please._ "

"Come on, Genny." Tears traced down her nose and cheeks, the motivation to move failing. "He's going to be alright. Just let the doctor do his work." Collapsing against the ground, she balled up her fists, fingernails digging into her palms. Biting her lip, she heard men murmur around her.

" _This is why women shouldn't be on the warfront."_

" _A sentimental lot, women are."_ Another agreed over a loud scream from the medicine tent. After a few more minutes, the shrieks died down and so did conversation before:

" _Honestly, what was the General thinking?"_

" _Better yet, what's the_ marquis _thinking?"_

" _She can load a gun fast - faster than all of us."_ One defiant voice tried to defend her against his fellow soldiers but he was quickly overtaken by the numerous other insults. The whole camp was buzzing with conversation. Some men refused to let her crying die as a topic and continued on over the next ten minutes.

 _"At least it's something to look at besides trees and rocks."_

 _"And she can fire a pistol with some crazy accuracy."_

" _Puh, that means nothing when you're weak._ "

 _"Our army's weak enough without this shit. They should discharge her."_

" _I bet she can't shoot a deer if it were even one foot away._ _Useless, too, then."_

" _She's too small for the musket anyway._ "

" _She's nearly as tall as you, Jenks."_ Again, the voice who defended her first pointed out, causing sniggers. Her knuckles blanched as she tried to stop herself from screaming. It had nearly died down when suddenly, a gravelly voice's words stood out among the others.

" _Frail bitch. Should work at at a whorehouse rather than the warfront. At least do something useful for once. Put those hands at work._ "

The tone, especially near the end, grew increasingly suggestive and she had trouble trying not to commit murder.

Rage boiled in her blood and she raised her head, tears drying and eyes clear. John looked at her carefully and Alexander looked ready to burst, insults spilling off his tongue. Reaching over, she made him look at her and shook her head minutely, _This is my fight,_ before standing up, gathering the attention of everyone in the camp.

"Weak. Frail. That's what you call it? How many of you have wives, siblings, _family_ at home?" None dared to answer her. "And how many of you love them more than anything?" She raised her chin defiantly, "Skill may be something that you hold above courage and loyalty, but I believe it's just as telling, no matter my gender. If you think that I am weak, I dare you to place yourself in my position. What if it was your wife who was bleeding out in childbed? Your sister who was dying of illness? Your daughter who just crossed the wrong road? Your mother who just left this world without warning?" Genevieve knew her voice cracked, trembled with fear and grief. _But I must do it. I must._ Her eyes raked across the crowd, nameless faces not meeting her gaze. "And how would you feel, knowing you couldn't do anything? Helpless? Fear that strikes you in your very soul?" No answer.

Pointing a finger towards the tent, she took a deep breath and raised her voice. "That is your Major General, a man who has proven himself over and over again that he can lead us to victory. That is the man who secured an alliance with France - who saved your God-forsaken asses from starving to death in that frigid winter. Instead of worrying about whether or not I'm fit to be here - whether or not your leaders are thinking for the ' _good_ _of the army'_ \- worry whether or not one of those leaders will _live._ " There was a deadly silence in which she met Alexander's eyes. There was a proud glint in them and John was trying to hide his smile.

"What's with all the yelling?" Charles Lee had finally made his reappearance, George Washington behind him as they exited the General's tent. Lee was slightly disheveled, but was relatively clean compared to the other soldiers. Barely any blood stained his uniform and his forehead wasn't shining with sweat like the others. His tone was derogatory, sharp with annoyance and nasally to her ears.

"Nothing, Lee." She said shortly, beginning to sit down when she heard him scoff.

"Oh, just the woman. Then it really is nothing. Bitch." Freezing, she cocked her head at him.

"Says the man who shat the bed earlier today." She snapped coldly, "Your uniform is looking rather clean, _General._ " The way the respectful title rolled off her tongue, it sounded more of an insult than a compliment. "Don't get it too dirty while you let others do the work for you."

"Alcott."

"Or better yet, maybe they should discharge you, you misogynistic bastard."

 _"Alcott."_ Washington's warning tone caused her to wince and her eyes drifted to the taller man. "A word." Courage faded away from her bones, adrenaline no longer pumping in her veins as she followed the stiff man into the medicinal tent. Whispers and smug glances nipped at her heels but she just ignored them, ducking under the flap of the tent before Washington. The scent of death, blood, and infection immediately invaded her senses, pungent and choking. Raking her gaze over the many moaning soldiers, women and men alike trying to ease their pain, she felt a stab of sympathy. The groans and gasps of pain tore at her resolve that she was struggling to build up.

Remembering her true purpose, she turned around as Washington entered. As soon as he did, it seemed like the tent had shrunk twice - the aura this man radiated automatically caused one's attention to land on him and know that he was someone to be respected. "Sir?"

"You won't speak to my men like that - I will not allow it." His voice quieted and for reasons unknown, that made her even more afraid. "I don't question my decision to allow your stay. But a world is a dangerous place for a woman. You may know how to fire a gun but words are your most powerful weapon," His eyes darted away from hers for just a moment, watching the other soldiers in the tent. When they returned, they were like two pieces of coal. Biting her tongue, she shook her head.

"Sir, if I don't respect-"

"You don't need to learn respect. You need to learn how to control your mouth."

"Sir-"

"Shut it." Respectfully, she did so. "I don't need my men questioning my judgement, especially now. So act as if you have earned to be here. Nothing more, nothing less." Nodding, she clasped her hands behind her back.

"Am I allowed a joke, sir?"

"Is this about Hamilton and his running mouth?"

"It was going to be, Your Excellency." She admitted. The corners of his lips quirked up and she rubbed the back of her neck guiltily.

"That is still a work in progress. Now, go see the Major General." He looked over her head to the far end of the tent. "I believe he's at the end of the row." Bowing at the waist, she waited until he gave her a nod and turned around before walking down the row of injured men. _I used to be one of them._ She realized compassionately. The doctor was sat by the cot, pulling a thread through the wound as he stitched the the skin together.

Slowing, her feet scuffed against the floor. A woman at the head of the bed glanced nervously between the doctor and the writhing man. His eyes were scrunched close with pain and sweat running down his skin. "Major General Lafayette, if you continue to move, I won't be able to stitch you up. Lily, you have to keep him still."

"I'm trying, sir." She bit back and Genevieve urged herself onward another two steps, coming in full view. From there, she could see the full extent of his injuries. The head wound was clean and stitched, blood wiped from his face in streaks. Dried russet stained his lips from the cut on his bottom lip and his leg was bandaged, but that was nothing compared to the abdominal wound. Based on the bottle of alcohol standing by the stool the doctor sat on and the knife in the pail of water, it wasn't hard to imagine his pain.

"Lafayette," his name came out strangled and she choked. Before she knew it, the brunette was crouched beside him, pressing her lips against the hand she held onto like a lifeline. "Hey, I'm here." She whispered, ignoring the pain as his back arched from the bed. He opened his eyes weakly and she stood, leaning over him and brushing back any hair that flew into his face.

A cloth was shoved into her hands and she looked up at the woman, Lily, whose eyes were wide with fear. Biting her lip, Genevieve wiped away any sweat and brushed her lips against his forehead.

"Gen?" He moaned and she nodded. His unfocused gaze lingered on her and she glanced at the doctor, heart falling when she saw how much was done - how little was done. _We can do this._ She breathed deeply and forced a smile on her face.

"I'm here," she promised. "Lafayette, _listen to me._ " Genevieve ordered and his frantic eyes landed on hers as the doctor pulled his skin shut. "Think of home." He seemed to swallow hard and, whilst still holding on to his hand for dear life, she used her other to drag the cloth across his skin, trying to make him more comfortable. Pulling a stool by his bedside, she sat down and continued, "Think of the Alexander and Eliza's wedding. When I saw you in your uniform," she let out puff of air at the memory. She had been impressed, that was for sure. "you were devastatingly handsome. I thought I'd never saw anyone like you before." He blinked twice, fingers crushing her bones and Genevieve kissed his blanching knuckles. "And you called me the most beautiful woman in the room, even though the bride was standing only a few meters away. It was a reckless move," she teased, "but Merlot runs in our veins, doesn't it?"***

"It does." His voice shook and her green eyes raked over his body. The full extent of his injuries, it was a surprise he was even an awake right now.

"We danced… and after..."

"I came home," he gritted out, a hoarse yell growing at the back of his throat. His eyes scrunched closed again and his knees jerked, pushing against the cot. The brunette didn't let go of his hand. He moaned, attempting to say more but she shushed him.

"Save your strength, love." She soothed before a hesitant, but genuine smile came across her face. "Yes, you came home." The doctor gave no sign of hearing them and Lily had retreated to tend to other patients. "How much longer, doctor?"

"Only a few more stitches. Keep him distracted, it's working." The moment Lafayette couldn't focus on her words anymore, the more he began to writhe on the cot. Snapping her gaze back to him, she pulled a mask of tenderness over her face, and brushed sweat and tears away from his cheek with the cloth in her hand. Her lungs were weak, blood roaring in her ears as it froze in her veins, causing an icy frost to wrap around her arms and settle in her gut.

His eyes fluttered closed and she looked around desperately, trying to distract him. A scream ripped through him, resonating from his chest. One that was weaved with pain and exhaustion, one that wanted to give up. The doctor pulled hard on the stitch and Genevieve impelled herself to continue. More than anything, she wanted to stop his suffering.

"Or the time before the Battle of Barren Hill?" She prompted over his tortured screams, trying despairingly to stall the tears that beaded in her eyes. No one should endure such pain. Goddammit, it was beyond her power to take the pain for him. She tried to picture them, instead, under the tree near the church, his golden epaulets brushing against her arm as he leaned over to kiss her. It held for a moment before shattering under his grunts and groans, tears streaking down his face. "We were under that tree… there was peace. Everything was perfect. It was just the two of us, as it should be."

His eyes opened and in them, she no longer saw any pain. Scooting closer to his head, she held his hand in her lap and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. "As it should be," he echoed, lungs gasping for air as if oxygen were silk, slipping between his fingers and always just out of his grasp. " _Je t'aime._ "

"I know." She whispered, "I love you, too."

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely moment," the doctor snapped dryly, "I need to wrap the wound."

"And everything's going to be okay. You'll make it through this." The doctor sent her a sharp glance. _Don't make promises you can't keep._

He continued on his instructions: "Alcott, help me lift him."

" _Lift him?_ " She echoed, shocked. "You just sewed him up. What if the stitches break?" The injured man let out a guttural moan, all fight leaving him for a moment. Sweet covered his skin in a sheen and he twisted away from the doctor. "Look at him!"

"The stitches won't break if we are careful. And we will be. Wrapping the wound would be limiting his chance of infection. Believe me, this is _saving him_ from pain." Was the precipitous reply and she shut her mouth, sliding her hands under his slick back. Fingers splayed, Genevieve, watched for the signal before lifting his midsection.

His hand clamped on her shoulder as he let out a gut-wrenching roar in pain. " _Arrête! Merde! Tu es un enfoiré!_ " Lafayette gasped when he finally was let back down. The doctor ignored the river of swears pouring like a river from the Frenchman's mouth. The doctor reached for the other end of the cloth, tying it tightly and making sure it covered the wound. The _marquis_ grunted when it was stretched tautly across his stomach but made no other sound. The doctor withdrew and gathered his instruments before nodding at Genevieve. Lafayette's eyes closed and he finally seemed to relax, back seeming the meld with the cot as if it were the fluffiest bed ever.

"He should sleep. I'll check up in the morning." The doctor covered his hands with a cloth and Genevieve sat down, looking at Lafayette's face. He was already sleeping, eyes shifting under his eyelids as if he were plagued by dreams. Kissing his knuckles, she held his hand against her cheek, relishing the warmth still in his body. That meant he wasn't dead. _He isn't dead. He's alive._ She told herself to try and calm her racing heart. For a moment, the hand in hers wasn't warm, but cold with death as the midwives pulled away the bloody linen. The raspy crying in her ears as her father cried over Ettie. Closing her eyes, she slouched on the cot. _But it didn't happen. His pulse, I can feel it. He isn't dead._ _Thank God._

Sitting tediously on the edge of the bed, she brushed back his messy tendrils and kissed his forehead. "Goodnight, my love. May your dreams be of sweeter times." Despite no reply, Genevieve knew that miraculously, he, in somehow, someway, heard her.

 **A/N: A** **ny of you still out there, still reading about these two?** **If so, leave me a review commenting what you want to see between Genny and Lafayette. Marriage, kids, fighting side by side? Whatever you want. I might make a one-shot compilation and post it separately.**

 **Anyway, enjoy that fluffy crap and Genny's speech. I am not someone who shoves feminism down people's throats but back in those days, men weren't as cool as they are today, as you might know. So, I might have over dramatized it but it was necessary for the Washington bit and it's a bit of foreshadowing for the future.**

 **I only have like 2% done of the next chapter so it might be a while. Depends on my motivation/time between school.**

 **Thank you:** **EmeraldGirl12, GodzNo, starswillreign123432 for following! And to BriCat03 and Kitty of 2 kingdoms who reviewed once again. Tons of love to you all.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **BriCat03: I like the name Ishikawa a lot, actually. I just might use it! Thank you for that 'It's Quiet Uptown' lyric twist which just made me fall apart. That's so creative! I hope you're glad that Genny didn't get shot, instead we got Lafayette's injuries. I hope I didn't completely kill you, :P**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: I try to make Alex as close as possible to the show but y'know, when you're imagining Lin as Hamilton, you kinda get away with it. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 ** _*He bent his right knee and rested his arm on the joint, bending his other knee on the ground so his foot could slip between his foot and his thigh in a relaxed, languid position._ The image that I'm trying to paint here - that is, if you don't get it - is Lafayette's left arm is holding him steady just slightly behind him. His right knee is pointing to the sky, bent, and his higher forearm rests on that knee while the other knee bends on the ground so his foot could slide in between the beginnings of his thigh and foot. Make sense? I hope so. It's one of those 'hot guy' poses I believe. I don't know.**

 ****" _You damned poltroon, you never tried them!"_ The exchange between Washington and Lee is historically accurate. He literally said that before swearing his ass off at Lee.**

 *****" _but Merlot runs in our veins, doesn't it?"_ Throwback! To the Winter's Ball!**


	11. Harcourt

**A/N: WARNING: THIS HAS MENTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AT THE POINT OF JULY 1, 1781. DON'T READ IT JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT TO KNOW THE PLOT. PUT YOUR OWN TRIGGERS/SAFETY FIRST. THERE WILL BE A SUMMARY NEXT CHAPTER WITHOUT EXPLICIT DETAIL.**

 **This chapter also contains an amount of swearing. Please be advised.**

 **THANK YOU!**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Harcourt**

 _June 29, 1781_

A twist to the side. A tingling sensation on his left arm. A dry throat.

Twitching fingers. The pressure's gone from his hand. A stretch of his left leg.

Everything hurt. His head, his leg, his side. Everything ached.

"Lafayette?" An angel's voice. Was he dead?

No, he would recognize that voice anywhere. He knew every sound it made, words twisted with fear, anger, the most tender note ever sung. The moans of passion, the little yelps of surprise, grunts of exertion, and every sigh after a hard day. A yawn against his cheek before pressing a kiss against his stubbly jaw.

 _No, you can't be dead._ He thought desperately, _You have so much more to live for._ His eyes searched in the darkness, tossing around, trying to find her. Her hand slipped into his, he could feel it, but he just couldn't find her.

"Lafayette, I'm here."

His throat scratched when he tried to make a sound but when his muscles twitched in his left arm, fire flared in his side and he let out a groan. No words came out, tongue twisted in knots.

"Lafayette, you're awake. Thank _God._ " The voice was so twisted with worry and he tried to make some semblance of a nod, still clouded in darkness. He wanted to assure her that he was okay. But the burning flames inside him said otherwise and all he wanted to do was sleep again - maybe forever. That sounded nice.

"What's going on?" At least, that's what he tried to say. Instead, it came out slurred and broken. The dry flower of thirst bloomed in his mouth and he coughed painfully, agony like lances stabbing through his side jolting up and down his abdomen. His stomach tried to heave but it was empty and it came out as dry, foul puffs of air.

"Drink," Something nudged at his lips and he opened his mouth as a tiny stream of water trickled down his throat. His eyes sprung open, a sigh escaping his lips and he jolted up, hand flying to his wrapped abdomen. His lip stung when the water dribbled down his chin and he flinched.

" _Merde._ " He cursed, other hand propping himself up as he winced. Immediately, a hand spanned across his bare back and the water continued to drip down his throat. Greedily, his left hand cupped the waterskin. Ignoring the burning intensity of his side, he flinched when Genevieve shuffled onto the bed. His body seemed to revolt against the sudden movement and he stiffened, hand leaving the waterskin to clutch his wound.

"Sorry." She murmured against his ear. "Here," his sticky hair was lifted from his back and neck. It was uncomfortable and he wanted to bat away the curls. Trying to raise his arm, he felt energy fade as quickly as it came. The circulation loss made his arm numb and it fell weakly back against the cot.

Lafayette clenched his teeth, lips pressed into a thin line as her fingernails scraped against his scalp. The sensation crawled up and down his spine as she gathered his hair into a ponytail. The _twang_ of his cotton band against his hair echoed in his head and when her hands settled on his shoulders, he relaxed against her stomach. The small pouch of fat proved to be a useful pillow and he turned his head to burrow deeper into her scent. As sweaty and like shit she smelled, he could still make out the slight whiff of the winter wind.

"Gen?" He asked weakly and her arms wrapped around his neck. His arms slid down to rest on the cot. He felt lightheaded and, dizzy, his head dipped forward. Eyes at half-mast, he tried to stay awake, but the fingers where his temple was pulsing cool and contrasting against the pounding headache building on his right side. "God, my head…"

"You have a cut. That might be why." She murmured, amused and his head rocked back, resting on her breasts as she bent over his head. He sniffed when her hair brushed against his closed eyes but sighed when she took away the weight of the abandoned waterskin on his chest. "Lafayette," a kiss on the forehead and her hair brushed against his chest, "I was so scared."

"I… _je sais._ " He mumbled and she just let out a sharp puff of air, leaning back. Her fingers continued their ministrations through his hair and tiredness swept through his mind, flooding him like the inebriation after three pints of Sam Adams. "How bad?"

"Not too deep on the leg, but still long so you might have to be careful on it." Her words were soft, not too loud on his headache. "Head's a bit of a mess and you have a cut lip but otherwise, you're okay."

"I am still handsome, though, _oui_?" He checked weakly and her body vibrated with deep chuckles. "I cannot live if you don't think that I'm handsome."

"Oh, shut up. Scars are beautiful." Genevieve assured, hand stroking his cheek and he could hear the smile, even when his eyes were closed. " _You_ are still handsome to me. Just, don't move, okay? Your side was pretty bad and the doctor checked up on you when we were still sleeping."

"What time is it?"

"Not too late in the morning." The brunette murmured. "You can sleep a bit more."

"Alexander and John?"

"We're taking shifts." She clarified and slipped away from him. _No, my acting pillow!_ He thought with a mixture of amusement and disappointment as his head was lowered on the hard pillow. "They should be back after breakfast. I have you all to myself for another ten, fifteen minutes?"

"Are we making use of that time?" He groaned, rolling onto his uninjured side. He opened his eyes and saw the dull, dirty tent end. An completely melted candle in its holder rested on its stool, its black wick bent and fragile. He blinked hard and tried to raise his head but let it fall back down when his head protested. Dirty white pants invaded his vision as someone climbed onto the small sliver of bed left. Immediately, a familiar smile made his heart sing, blood warming when she leaned over to kiss him.

"Hey." Her green eyes were alert, sharp, hands clasping in his rough ones. Although her fingers were calloused up to where they joined with her palm, the skin of her palm was soft. "I'm glad you're okay." For the first time, he saw her face and realized that the dark circles around her eyes were caused by exhaustion.

"Did you sleep?" He asked quietly and she smiled, not answering the question. "It appears I'm not the only one not taking care of myself."

"I slept. Just… not that much." She admitted and he chuckled before wincing. "Worry kept me up." They bathed in each other's presence and he watched as she closed her eyes. Content with just watching her doze off, he closed his eyes too. There was peace where it was just their matched breathing until a certain pair decided to come in.

"Aye, Laf!" Someone yelled before being shushed.

"John, _not so loud._ " Alexander scolded. Lafayette sighed, groaning when Genevieve's hand slipped away. She pushed herself up to look over him, glaring. He didn't bother to move, eyes still closed. "There they are. Didn't see you last night in the tent, Genny."

"Obviously," she snorted. "Lafayette, you still there?" She asked, amused and he scrunched up his nose without a response. Laughing, the brunette brushed her knuckles against his beard before kissing him deeply. He sighed at the familiar ecstasy of her mouth but she got off, cot bouncing from the sudden weight loss before he could properly indulge in it. Straightening, she pinned the devil duo with a amused, smiling gaze. "He's a bit dazed. Please keep him in a sane state of mind."

"No promises," Alexander commented dryly as she groaned dramatically. Lafayette reached for her hand and caught it miraculously.

"I'll be right back. Your friends are here to see you."

"Obviously," he said drily and was rewarded with a peck on the lips.

"I'll be back. Don't worry." She promised before leaving him alone with two enthusiastic men who acted like five-year olds. _Great,_ he mused but rolled onto his back to look at his friends. Their faces flooded with relief and he allowed a small grin on his face.

"Well, _mes amis,_ do I look bad or not?"

 _July 1, 1781_

"Slowly," Genevieve murmured as he pulled on his jacket. He grunted but Genevieve didn't make a move to help him, knowing he wanted to do it himself. The brunette glanced outside the tent and scowled. After her insubordination, she had been the target of malicious taunts and glares. While when she was with John or Alexander, it lessened but there were moments she just wanted to shove her knuckles into someone's face.

This was her sanctuary. Any free time she had was spent in Lafayette's presence. And it was very little time. The man was frustrated by his limitations but the doctor had brandished a scalpel when the _marquis_ tried to escape. "Is Lee being tried today?"

"Tomorrow. You know what he's saying about Washington?" She asked, nudging his boots closer towards him. He carefully swung his legs over the edge and shoved them into the black boots.

"Something stupid, I am guessing." Lafayette grunted and Genevieve offered a hand, lips quirking up. "I can do this."

"Lafayette," she warned and he looked up at her, dark eyes alight with energy he had just regained. "The training grounds aren't going anywhere." His hand slid into hers and she gently helped him up. "Major General Friedrich isn't either. He assures you that you can take your time."

"My men cannot wait." Rolling her eyes, she wrapped an arm around his waist as he hugged her shoulder with one arm. Her other hand rested on his chest, steadying him. Together, they took steps towards the entrance. He favored his left leg heavily and limped, almost all his weight on Genevieve. Her shoulder became sore quickly but she hitched him up higher. Sweat was beading his forehead and under her fingers, she could feel his healing wound, the cloth wrapped tightly as his lungs struggled for breath.

Finally, they reached the entrance and she pulled apart the tent flap, ducking under it with him. He tried to stifle his limp but ended up leaning more on her. She sent him a strained smile and an apologetic glint in his eyes sparkled back at her. "Come on, just a few more steps." She murmured and he nodded.

"Major General Lafayette!" An excited voice piped up. "You're up!" Lafayette's grin grew and Genevieve felt the tension in his body melt away. Looking up at the man who spoke, she met his eyes and he seemed to shrink.

"It is nice to see the sky again." They limped past the soldier in which Genevieve kept eyes on the ground ahead. The man muttered his greetings but she just acknowledged it with a sharp nod. "What was that?"

"What?" She asked innocently and he raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do?" He questioned slowly and a flush rose in her face.

"I may have yelled at all the men in the camp for calling me weak." She admitted and he laughed, immediately wincing because _damn, that side burned._ Her hand steadied him as he caught his breath, trying to calm himself down at the thought of the brunette yelling at all the larger, taller, bulkier men like a mother would scold their child.

"Ah, so another perfect thing you did." He teased, kissing her temple and she looked up at him with a roll of her eyes.

"Right," she drawled sarcastically and Lafayette pressed a kiss against her lips before her head turned back towards the road ahead of them. More soldiers called out their greetings. A seasoned warrior snorted at their actions and turned away, turning to say something to his friend. She immediately recognised his gritty, dry voice. The one who had set her off. He began following them, not too closely but close enough to put her on edge. Trying to hide her scowl, she just kept her eyes ahead. Lafayette seemed to stand straighter, talk more optimistically as if he were just as knowing of their situation.

When they finally reached the open space they used as a training ground, she saw Washington and Friedrich watching a few of the troops sparring. Washington looked up first, a spark of surprise lighting up his gaze. "Lafayette!"

"I am up, a surprise, I know." He commented drily and Genevieve laughed, helping him settle back down on a stump of a cut tree. "I wanted to breath fresh air for once."

"It took a lot of convincing," she added. Her gaze turned to the men and she, in the corner of her eye, saw the man and his friend still following to stand beside her. Her hand settled on his shoulder. He gave her a slight grin but she couldn't return it when she could feel the man's burning stare on her neck.

She watched the two men continue to tussle when her name was called. "Alcott." Her head snapped towards the man who stood beside her. For a moment, his name, Harcourt, was present in her mind before it vanished at his next words. "Care for a spar?" She stared at him, registering that Lafayette's hand covered the one on her shoulder. "Wouldn't want our skills to get rusty just because we won one battle, am I right?"

"Of course." She agreed tartly, unwilling to give a reason as to why not. _Goddamn my pride._ She growled inwardly to herself. His friend smirked, taking her place beside Lafayette as she took a step forward. Shrugging off her jacket, she left it in Lafayette's care. He held onto her wrist and she leaned down, staring into his eyes.

"I don't like the feeling of this. Something is going on between you and Harcourt." The man murmured.

"You've been out of commision. You missed a lot, love." She offered a grim smile before straightening up and rolling her shoulders back. "Let's go, Harcourt."

"Your Excellency, we'll just be in the clearing yonder." Harcourt pointed at a space where the trees parted as a window to another glade. Other men were sparring in different dells of the forest - the request wasn't unreasonable. Washington crossed his arms and Friedrich raised his head, curious.

"Fine."

The grizzly-like man smirked, leading her to the more private area. Lafayette looked ready to murder but couldn't protest as to why not the two should leave. Washington's gaze followed after them, tainted with suspicion. She wasn't the only one then. _Good._ She felt relieved at the thought that at least a healthy and fit soldier was keeping an eye out. When they finally passed the brush and trees - farther than she'd like - Harcourt took up a position, raising his fists. She didn't say anything, only took a defensive position, low to the ground.

"Aren't you gonna come and sit in my lap, little girl?" He taunted and she clenched her fists even tighter. Without a warning, he charged at her. Ducking under his first swing, she shifted to his side and swung a right hook into his ribs. He pivoted out of the way and they began to circle each other. Scanning for any twitching movements, Genevieve began to slowly close the distance between them.

 _He's bigger. Fast, but not as fast as me._ She thought, _More power behind his swings but he can't pull back. That means short, quick strokes._

He lunged at her and she juked out of the way, spinning on the ball of her foot. He landed on all fours and the brunette was about to jab an elbow into his spine when his hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off balance. Back landing on the hard ground, she felt the air knocked out of her. Shock flooded her system as he pulled her towards him and straddled her hips. His legs kept hers unable to move and she twisted, trying to push the heavy man off. Grunting, she tried to push him off with a powerful shove to the chest but he wouldn't budge. Every plan she had made to beat him flew out the window.

Terror and panic made her unable to think straight and she started struggling blindly. Her feet pushed against the dirt but it didn't help as he gathered her wrists in one hand. The grasp was so hard it hurt as she kept wriggling underneath him.

"Fuck you." She spat up at him as he brought her hands above him. "Get off of me!" If this was just a regular old sparring, he'd have gotten off of her by now. Her lungs, still recovering, heaved as much oxygen as possible, trying to calm herself.

"Like that'll work on the battlefield, sweetheart." He snarled. Harcourt leaned down and she shivered when the bristles of his beard brushed against her cheek. "Don't scream." The heavier man's words caused even more fear to strike her core. _No, no, no._ Pure instinct overwhelmed every move drilled into her mind and she struggled even harder, even when it burned against her wrists and waist.

"You wouldn't dare." She hissed back at him. "Not with the repercussions." Feeling his thighs loosen around her hips, she bent her knees slowly as to not gain his attention. If she could distract him long enough, then she'd be free.

"Like I care. This war's a lost one." He sneered. His fist landed on her cheek and her neck twisted at the force. Pain bloomed from her cheek and she could feel the beginnings of a bruise form as blood rushed to the area of contact. Then, he began to skim her side, roughly feeling the curve of her waist and breast. So hard that she thought it'd leave marks. So hard that she _knew_ it'd leave marks.

"What are you doing?" She asked shakily. Her lip trembled when she saw him smirk. Intentionally mauling at her body harder, she nearly let out a scream. When the sound was just about to leave her throat, his hand squeezed her windpipe so it died quicker than a bullet to a bird. Biting her lip to keep herself from crying, Genevieve already knew the answer. When the hand left, she wheezed out, "No, Washington's only-"

"Washington won't hear a thing." He growled.

"You corrupt bastard!" Another blow on the same cheek. Flinching, she let out an erratic breath. "What the hell is wrong with you?" With every word, his thighs slowly loosened. "I _will_ kill you." She promised. He chuckled under her lethal glare as if it were nothing. When his hand flitted to her waistband, she stiffened. Every muscle was paralysed with absolute horror. _Where's Washington?_ _Where is he?_

"That _marquis_ is a lucky man to have you every night. What is he giving you? Riches? Land?" Resentful, she swallowed and closed her eyes. If she could just pretend this wasn't happening, if she could just imagine that this was just a dream, maybe it would be true. "Or is this all for free?" When his hand began to pull her pants down, she felt a whine rise in her throat.

"Don't you dare speak his name. You don't deserve to say it." Spitting in his face, she felt a flicker of satisfaction at the shock on his face. "You are not even half the man he is."

"I assure you. I am more than enough." He growled in her ear and she realised that she could feel the wind on her stomach and her lower back. His insinuation made her blood boil and she was about to scream when his hand clamped over his mouth. Biting the skin of his hand as hard as she could, she spat out blood when he withdrew with a bunch of curses.

Rolling her onto her back, Harcourt took his jacket and tied it around her open mouth, effectively gagging her. She choked on the dirt as he slammed her head into the ground. Feeling her gag reflex touch the cloth, the urge to heave made tears spring into her eyes.

She was on her back again and he resumed his task, one hand slithering all over her body and roughly groping at her. "You're a naïve girl if you think that man loves you. A Frenchman never stays loyal to a woman."

 _You're wrong._ She thought back, unable to speak. When his hand finally managed to shimmy down her pants, she looked up at the sky, trying to block out the feeling of whatever he was doing. Genevieve knew her voice shook beyond her control as she sobbed and she made no attempt to stop it. For a moment, the fight left her and she relaxed as he thumbed the rim of the band again. Then, it flitted across the space of her navel. Her wrists burned against the constraints of his hand and she realised how truly helpless she was. His body became closer to hers, widening the stance of his knees.

The way his body was so close to hers, a position she had only ever shared intimately with Lafayette, made her feel tainted. Dirty. Used. Broken.

She continued to stare up into the sky. _It's all a dream, only a dream._ Unfortunately, most often, the nightmares were what became reality.

"You're a bad girl. A lesson needs to be taught." The words caused disgust to rise up in her throat and she felt the fight return even harder. The urge was powerful, as powerful as the dread and alarm racing in her body. It caused her reflexes to be faster than a bullet, muscles energised with adrenaline and fear. Sudden bravery flashed in her mind, taking it off whatever he was going to do to her. It was white, hot, and blinding. She did not go down without a fight. An Alcott never went down without a fight. "I believe you need it."

"What I need is you off of me." The gag became loosen in her thrashing and the words came out bitter and bilious. Legs fully bent, she shifted her feet so they were planted securely on the ground. Thrusting the left side of her hip towards the sky, she off balanced and dislodged the man and immediately, his hand let go of her wrists to stabilise himself. Although a leg was still on the other side of her, he was free for attack. Pushing herself away with the combined force of her legs and arms, she kicked him right in the chest. With an 'oof', he nearly flew across the clearing as she scrambled up and let out a deep breath. Pulling her waistband higher up, she glowered at the man who moaned pathetically on the ground.

Her racing heart and upset stomach did not make for a good combo. Feeling the urge to heave whatever she ate earlier that morning, she stumbled to the side when the full force of his blows to the cheek and his actions really hit her. Ripping his jacket out of her mouth, she spat out blood that had flooded her mouth when she bit his hand and covered her lips with a hand.

Choking back tears, she dragged herself over to him where he was still recovering. He looked up at her, malice in his eyes and she kicked him in the gut.

Again.

And again.

God, it felt good.

Grabbing his wrists, she twisted them so that when he was on his back, it threatened to dislocate his shoulders. Straddling his back, she bent over made sure she was right next to his ear. "I guess these hands are at work, Harcourt." The brunette snarled, icy poison in her voice. "I hope I never see your face again. And I pray to God that not another woman will become your next prey. As always, brawn has a limitation" she straightened again and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling so he'd look straight at her, "but brains do not. Don't ever underestimate women again."

He made a growling sound and she got off of him, feeling blood pooling in her cheeks. Her right cheek ached but she ignored it as she watched him get up. Swinging a clenched fist into his face, she felt the pain race up and down her arm. Shaking out her hand, she looked on as he stumbled back. The contaminated feeling didn't go away.

She threw another punch.

And another.

And another.

He collapsed and she was about to beat the pulp out of him, storming over to him when arms wrapped around her. Screaming, she immediately began to thrash. It was just instinct by then. "Alcott," the tone of voice was familiar. Paternal. George Washington held onto her until she no longer struggled where he let go. "That excuse of a man doesn't even deserve the beat up you were going to give him. He deserves worse."

Immediately, sobs overtook her and she collapsed to her knees. George Washington barely spared Harcourt a few seconds to look before helping the female soldier up. They slowly limped together out of the clearing towards the main one. George's presence wasn't threatening, instead it radiated restrained anger, protection and familiarity.

Raising her head wretchedly, she noted the new people in the dell.

Rochambeau watched Aaron Burr and Louis-Philippe go toe-to-toe. Harcourt's friend blanched at the sight of her and she ducked her head again. Shame rose within her along with the nauseating pain in her stomach and head. Stumbling away from Washington and to a tree, she threw up.

The attention was immediately caught. She clutched her gut while the other held onto the tree for support. Closing her eyes, she felt the flashes of what just occurred play in her mind and it caused another bout. Acid escaped her lips again and warm hands pulled back her hair.

That only caused more pain. Jerking away, she saw George Washington's hands held up in a placating gesture and she hid herself behind the tree. Apologies written all over his face, he backed away.

 _You're disgusting. Used. Spoilt goods._ Her mind kept throwing the words at her and she struggled to defend it. Washington looked at her face before flitting down to where her knuckles were on the tree. Red, skin cut from the force of the punches.

"Lafayette." He said the name quietly and she felt the hot, thick tears cloud her vision. George Washington sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Genevieve huddled near the base of the tree, unwilling for more people to see her. Bringing her knees to her chest, her shoulders shook as she cried into her knees.

Somewhere in her mind registered that the General left towards the clearing she came from after exchanging words with someone. Lifting her head, she saw Aaron Burr help Lafayette slip down beside her. He offered a kind smile and she ducked her head in a short nod.

"Alcott." He greeted softly, " _Monsieur_ Lafayette, call for me when you want to leave." Burr murmured and Lafayette gave the Lieutenant Colonel a grim smile.

"I won't be leaving until she does." He tilted his head towards Genevieve. Burr nodded and left quietly as Lafayette gazed at the woman. Thumbs absently running over the lapels of her jacket still in his arms, he studied her profile. She seemed to have shifted away, eyes closed as tears didn't cease to trace her face. Occasionally, a hiccup or her shoulders would shake.

He could only guess what she was feeling.

So he didn't say anything, afraid she'd close off forever.

If she hadn't already.

Once her sobs subsided, he raised his head to look at her. Those brilliant verdant eyes were devoid of life and as dull as a spread knife. Her body was limp and he realised that her uniform was dishevelled in all the wrong places. Rage boiled in him, nearly blinding him when there were voices on the other side.

Turning to watch, he saw George and Rochambeau sharing dangerous looks over a man's back. _Harcourt._ He realised with nausea. _I shouldn't have left her alone. God… No…_ Vengeance flooded his mind as the two generals escorted the man away.

Trying to get up, he forgot about his injuries completely and groaned, fire dancing up his side. A hand wrapped around his arm, helping him to gently ease him back onto the ground. His dark eyes met her green ones and she didn't smile or give any indication that she had helped him. Withdrawing, she sat even farther away and he made no move to go towards her.

Any question he asked would've been insensitive.

So they just sat there until the sun began to set and a chill swept through the forest. A messenger appeared and Lafayette nodded. He heard barely that they weren't leaving today due to unforeseen circumstances. _Because of what Harcourt did._ The _marquis_ thought as the messenger left numbly. It was as if anything he heard when in through one ear and out the other. Dusk began to shroud the forest. When she could barely contain her shivers, he extended the jacket towards her.

"Gen, _ma_ _chérie,_ please." When she didn't move, he shuffled closer. "Genevieve."

Every fibre in Genevieve's being wanted to trust him. Trust his words and his smile and touch. But she felt so utterly broken that if she shifted, she'd break apart. Like glass, just as fragile. And there'd be too many pieces to completely fix her.

He kept his distance after she didn't respond and finally, she raised her head and looked into his eyes. The love in his eyes made her sick.

She didn't think someone could love her anymore.

"I'm sorry." She murmured softly, voice hoarse and broken. He looked at her, silently asking if he could move closer. Nodding hesitantly, she watched him like a hawk as he draped her jacket around her shoulders.

"You're not the one who should be sorry." He whispered, drawing back. "Gen, I will kill that man. I promise, he will pay for it." At his words, she remembered the feel of exhilaration every time she kicked him, punched him. It felt so good then. Now it just felt hollowing. Cold. Inhumane.

There was a deadly silence. Her thoughts swirled in her head, imitating that dark voice that had spoken to her. That promised that Lafayette didn't love her - that she was just being used. The one that told her not to scream as he tried to disrobe her. Rubbing at her red wrists, she could only imagine the marks underneath the clothes. Temporary mars on the skin that would long fade in time. Dark purple and green smudges that would fade in time and give no evidence that they were ever there. But it was permanently ingrained in her mind and it scarred her heart and made her pride ache. The way his hand flitted across her navel, pulling down her waistband.

It was white hot shame and broken trust.

She was brought out of her thoughts jarringly when Lafayette appeared beside her. His slight distance was respectful but it was clear he wanted to do something. The sun was slowly dipping beyond the horizon and she was sure John and Alexander were wondering where they were.

"Gen,"

"Yes?" She surprised herself by answering and he took it as a hopeful sign.

"Can I… touch you?" He asked uncertainly. For a moment, fear overwhelmed her senses and she wanted to bolt off. What if he did the same? The word, 'no' was on the tip of her tongue but instead, what came out strangely was…

"Yes." Perhaps their love had prevailed and allowed her to give consent she couldn't previously give. Or perhaps it was the trust in his molasses eyes as he nodded slightly. Tentatively wrapping an arm around her, Lafayette sidled up to her and held her. Leaning slightly into him, she stared dully at the ground as he sighed, rubbing her arm hesitantly. His cool breath fanned across her cheek, a telling sign he was watching her carefully. It was unlike the hot, rancid breath that had puffed against her cheek as Harcourt tried to undress her. Her knuckles stung when she straightened her fingers and she winced against Lafayette.

He noted the movement and offered his free hand. Placing her left hand in his right, she felt his thumb dance over the split skin.

Maybe it was a mixture of both. Love and trust, it felt like, went hand in hand.

"You need to get this seen to." He murmured. The brunette didn't respond, only drew her bleeding hand away from him. "You know I wouldn't hurt you."

"I know." Pulling his arm away, he made her face him. Out of habit, his left hand cupped her cheek and she flinched away. Distrust flooded her eyes and he felt guilt flash in his mind. Taking a deep breath, Genevieve steeled her nerves and got up. Pulling on her jacket, she buttoned it up to cover her dishevelled clothes and to save what little was left of her pride. Sticking out her uninjured hand, she tried to smile but it came out warped. "Take it. We need to head back to camp."

"Gen, you cannot pretend you're okay." She pulled him up and the dark-haired man winced, hand coming up to his waist while a fire burned in his leg. "Gen-"

"I'm not. But you need to go back to camp." He could almost imagine the conflicting thoughts. Genevieve wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him, another on his chest as she did earlier that day - back when it was simpler. If only one thing had gone differently... had he not insisted on leaving today, had she not given in to his requests. Had they both realised what today would bring, Lafayette was sure they would both have done something differently. "Lafayette, come on." Her breathing was erratic and if he could guess, her pulse was racing.

"You are scared of me." He realized and she didn't contradict him. Slowly, they made their way back to the camp. The silence was unnerving on both ends. Genevieve's loyalty to him kept her going but with every step, the panic inside her welled up, wanting to override every sane order her brain made. Trying to stomp it down, she ignored how sensitive she was to his every movement. His every twitch of a finger, every wince of pain. It was as if her nerves were hyper-reactive, sending signals to her brain faster than she could comprehend.

Lafayette knew that she was close to shutting down. As soon as they broke into the main camp, Alexander and John flew to their sides. The two best friends shouldered Lafayette's weight, leaving Genevieve free from the suffocating presence. "Are you alright?" Alexander questioned quietly.

"Does everyone know what happened to me?" She asked with bitter amusement and he winced.

"We guessed as soon as the bastard's ass was dragged in between Rochambeau and Washington." John explained. He tilted his head in the direction of the General's tent, "They went in, haven't come back out since." Following his action, she looked towards the quiet tent and her gaze swept across the camp. Eyes were on her; sympathetic, piteous, sad, guilty.

"Great." She growled and stormed towards their tent. Tears pricked at her eyes, their stares burning on her as heat rose in her face. Ducking her head so no one would see them, she jerked the tent flaps open and disappeared into the shelter. There was a quiet when no one in the camp spoke.

"Get back to your lives." Alexander growled, rage building up inside him. Limping, the trio of friends made their way to the hospital tent as soldiers broke out into chatter, rumours spreading like wildfire behind them. When they set their injured friend down on his bed, John sat next to him, a deep frown across his face. Alexander paced back and forth, the gears in his head turning before crouching down in front of them. He spoke to his friends quietly and urgently, "Lafayette, rest. I'll speak to her." The Frenchman looked ready to protest but instead gave a warning.

"She's scared, Alexander. Please, do not push her."

"She's Eliza's best friend. By extent, I'm her brother."

"I don't think that counts right now. In her mind, every man is the same." John murmured Nodding, Alexander sent the curly-haired man a glance before patting Lafayette on the shoulder. Standing up, he exited the tent and with as little attention as he could possible, swiped a clean cloth before leaving. Sneaking towards his own tent, he watched the soldiers drink and laugh, feeling like there was nothing funny of their situation.

Ducking into the shelter, he looked towards the bed Genevieve normally occupied. She was facing towards the center of the room, quiet as she continued to stare off into the distance. The blanket loose around her as if she just threw it over. Her limp hand fell off the bed and she was still wearing her boots. Not saying anything, he walked over to her. She still didn't acknowledge him.

"Genny?" Still no reply. Now that he was closer, Alexander could see the puffiness around her eyes as tears stained the cot underneath her cheek. In her eyes was a haunting emptiness as if part of her had been stolen. "Genevieve, _hey._ " Again, unresponsive. Perching near her legs, he waited quietly until she drew in a sharp, deep breath. Blinking hard, she cleared her throat as if she hadn't been crying.

"Alexander?" She withdrew her legs, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. Her shoulders were hunched and her head ducked. Alexander had never seen the woman look so small. Even in the dim candlelight, he could see the beginnings of the trademark dark purple bloom across her cheek. "What do you want?" The shakiness of her voice, so severe that he knew not even a firm hold could stop, spawned such sympathy inside him.

"What do you need?" Again, her eyes became insipid and she looked ten years older.

"My dead mother." Not taken aback at all, Alexander nodded. When he was silent, his thoughts spun like an intricate spider's web. "What's with the cloth?"

"For your knuckles, if you can let me." He held it up and she grimaced, extending her injured hand towards him. He tentatively took her hand, immediately feeling her flinch away. Pulling away, he held up his hands. She swallowed a knot in her throat, clenching her fists. Hissing when it stretched her split skin, Genevieve tried to give him her hand again. Glaring at her shaking limb, she sucked in a breath. Alexander cocked his head, lowering his hands. "Is this… how he-"

"No." She cut him off sharply. "No, stop. Don't… don't talk about it. Just do it." Looking away, she felt him take her wrist as he wrapped the cloth tightly around her knuckles. Staving off the want to flinch - to rip her hand away and scream 'get away from me' - she bore the pain easily. Withdrawing quickly, the brunette stretched her fingers experimentally before bringing her hand back to her chest. Alexander's dark eyes looked nearly black in the limited fire in the tent and she couldn't bear to look at him. They were too alike to Harcourt's black eyes as he sneered at her.

The silence between them stretched into minutes, not comfortable but not spartan either. It was the silence of Echo, yearning to speak yet unable to form her own words. Alexander eventually withdrew to the desk in their shelter, dipping the quill into the inkwell before beginning to write. The scratch of the quill was familiar, comforting and Genevieve watched him write furiously as she began to lose herself again.

The hollowing, vacuum feeling in her chest returned as she scrunched her eyes shut. Her nerves felt like they were receding from her limbs and everything was so, _so cold._ Numb. Ruined.

"Congress will hear about this," Alexander vowed but it seemed as if he were talking to himself. Like he was in his own palace of paragraphs. "I swear,"

Again, silence. This time, longer. Ten, maybe twenty minutes. Genevieve wasn't sure. Time wasn't the concept most forefront on her mind.

"Hamilton," light streamed into the tent and neither of the two occupants looked up. "Hamilton." Washington burned a stare into his right hand man's back yet still got no response.

"Alexander." At John's voice did he finally snap out of it. "The General's here."

"Sir," Alexander stood, saluting briefly. "Harcourt's going to be punished, right? He'll be tried, court-martialed, and punished. I'm writing to Congress - this cannot stand!" As always, his mind and mouth ran a mile a minute and Washington sighed.

"Slow down."

"You violate someone's rights. Sir, you cannot let this slide!" John sighed, eyes travelling from Alexander to Genevieve who was half-listening. "Who else can't we trust?" The freckled man's gaze worked its way back to Alexander, "What if this happens again? Washington, sir-"

"Alexander-"

" _Washington, sir,_ if Harcourt is not punished, I will personally shoot him myself. Do you expect me to do nothing?"

"Hamilton-"

"Honestly, what kind of man does this kind of shit?"

Neither of the two close friends of Alexander could shut him up as he continued to rant on and on. Not until Genevieve raised her head, mouth pressed into a firm line did Alexander's head snap towards her.

"Alex, let the man speak." Nodding his head in thanks, Washington cleared his throat.

"Due to this circumstances," _My circumstance,_ she clarified to herself. Even he looked uncomfortable broaching the subject, "and extensive discussion on the future - of yours and Harcourt's - the leaders of this army," in her head, she ticked off the heavies of their army. Washington himself, Rochambeau, Friedrich, Greene, Stirling, "have all agreed to offer a military discharge."

"What?" Her pride spoke first and she flinched at the brusque tone of her voice. "Sir,"

"You were assaulted." John said starkly, "By a man you're supposed to trust on the battlefield. Genny, this isn't an attack on your pride or place in the army." The frown softened on his face. "This is for you." Tracing the uneven lines of the cot, she shivered involuntarily. Genevieve felt herself nod as her green eyes slid close. "For both your mental health and physical health."

"Draft an official statement to Congress. Give them no reason or room to issue a subpoena to Ms. Alcott. Genevieve," the first time the General addressed her by name caught her attention. Despite the vacuum in her chest, she could feel the barest of flames rage at her insides. Her fear lessened around her friends - she trusted them, she knew she did now - but there was something that made her want to just run. Run back home, back to simpler times when her mother was still alive and her father still was twenty-nine.

But that's what they were offering, at least partially. A one-way trip back to Albany.

"Genevieve, go home. That's an order from your commander." Washington murmured and giving him a jerking nod, she scooted to the edge of the bed. Her legs felt weak and she was reluctant to stand but she forced herself to. Immediately, black dots spiraled in her vision and she stumbled to the desk. Hands floated around her, wanting to help but unsure.

"I'm fine." She muttered. Her face said she wasn't. Instead, she grabbed a spare sheet and a quill. Alexander surrendered the seat for her and she sat down in it as he walked towards Washington and John.

"Call if you need any of us."

There was no response as she began her letter.

.

Later that night when everyone was outside eating dinner, she unbuttoned her jacket and raised her chemise to see the dark bruises on her skin. Swallowing thickly, she crouched by the bucket they had near the entrance and threw up nothing. Hunger ached, nipping at her stomach but she ignored it, buttoning her jacket back on again and lying down on her bed.

She pretended to sleep when Alexander and John came back in. They were quiet with exhaustion and a warm meal but she could still feel their concerned glances on her as she struggled to keep her eyes closed and her breath even. Her bruised cheek pulsed against the pillow but she tried to ignore it as someone put out the light. Then did she open her eyes to darkness.

The darkness was suffocating yet liberating. Something to keep her company as her eyes refused to close. Staying absolutely still, she remained a silent effigy.

In the morning, she closed her eyes just before John and Alexander woke. John had gone out to the outhouse and to scrounge up breakfast while Alexander sat down to write.

When he finished, then was the time she decided to 'wake up'. While he folded back the blanket on his cot, when Alexander asked if she had slept last night - even at all, he insisted - she gave an ironic smile that gave all the answers - that he didn't see - but said anyway, "Yes." And when Alexander turned around, the smile was gone as Genevieve sat up and hid her face, hands clamped over the edge of the bed. Nausea and exhaustion hit her in waves as she stood, gripping onto the table for support. Her sealed envelope to her father and her father alone was lying where she had left it, by the capped inkwell.

Another letter was by hers, sealed with wax. Already, Genevieve knew it was what Alexander was writing earlier that morning. A letter to his beloved wife saying that they were to be expected in two week's time. Of course, nothing was set in stone yet. Genevieve highly doubted he talked to the General about even leaving so soon. But that was always Alexander: do first, think later.

"You hungry?" John asked, coming in and Genevieve didn't respond as Alexander took a slice of bread from his best friend. "Genny?"

"I need to do something." She decided aloud and they both inquired curiously. "Alexander, do you have more paper?" With an affirmative, she sat down as a new, crisp sheet was laid down in front of her. Perhaps it was the riptide of exhaustion hitting her over and over again but she was so sure that this was the right thing. And it'd only be a limited period - she knew that soon, she would be forced to wake up and open up her eyes to the world, to eat and sleep while Alexander wrote to Congress for Washington and John did whatever he did. Command troops, train, forage for more food. And when she woke up, she knew that these lingering feelings would be gone, replaced by fear, doubt and caprice. When she woke up, she'd remember every moment in aching detail and the love she held for him would be clouded over by a thick, heavy mist of terror that was difficult to fight through.

For now, that terror was fogged by the desire to regain energy - to sleep, eat, drink. To write this letter in case she didn't remember it in the future. "Go eat without me."

"Are you sure-"

"John, I'm fine." They didn't sound like words coming from her mouth. "Just leave." And so she made sure they were gone before she returned to writing.

 _Lafayette,_

 _Perhaps it was fate for this to happen. Or maybe dumb luck. Or maybe, it was the universe's way of saying we don't belong together. Whatever it is, I don't care. Whatever it is, my loyalty towards you has still not been shattered. My trust in you is greater than for any man and it'll take more than what has transpired for me to desert you._

 _I will not stop caring for your well being. It's as simple as that. Or is it?_

 _The emotion I feel for you cannot be confined to such a simple word as love. You're an irreplaceable friend, ally, brother-in-arms, and most of all, I believe you to be the one I wish to spend the rest of my life with. Lafayette, you are nothing short of magnificent. And I love you more than you could possibly understand._

 _Don't miss me in my absence. However long that may be. Even if you return, and my soul has not yet healed, know that in another life, in another time, the one I loved most was you._

 _Your dearest,_

 _Genevieve Alcott_

And she sealed it in an envelope with wax, scribbled his name on the back and kept it under her pillow. When the time came to leave, she'd give it to him but for now, she'd allow the darkness looming over her head to knock her out as she fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

 **A/N: Oh my, almost 9K Words. My longest chapter and a packed one as well. I hope you understand why this took so damn long to write. I don't take sexual assault lightly and I didn't want to understate the absolute horror the victim feels when it happens. I never do it unless it's necessary to the plot, and for this story, it is. I wanted to get this right yet I still feel like I didn't. Sexism was really shitty back then, folks.**

 **I know, 'Genny is leaving Lafayette again!'. She's just going back home. They won't never meet again. I couldn't do that. Also, I'd like to say that one of Genny's most defining traits (if you haven't noticed) is her loyalty. Loyalty to her family and to Lafayette (as seen in this chapter) Unfortunately, it's also her hamatia. (The fear when she's helping Lafayette back to camp)**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you're willing to wait for the next one which I'm starting as soon as I post this chapter.**

 **Thank you to all the favorites and follows. Honestly, I'm so tired that I can't give you all shout outs. So here is my COMPLETE SHOUT OUT TO ALL WHO SUPPORT THIS STORY. There's so many of you and I hope you know that this story wouldn't be here with you all.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **xxxFancy Lala: They are. I'm glad you decided to read this fic!**

 **Ajnonymous: Ah! That's so sweet! Thank you so much!**

 **Trinity Rebel: YAY! YOU REMEMBERED YOU PASSWORD! Yo, don't worry. I haven't gotten over any of their deaths and it was 200 years ago. Goddamn. I'm not sure about the deaths yet but just you wait... Anyway, I'm so happy that you love Genny as much as I do and thank you for returning to this fic!**

 **AvidPotterHead: Oh, yes. I totally remember you :) I'm glad you checked this out.**

 **PaintingMusic14: Here's the next chapter, if you read it!**

 **Guest: Haha, that's unique. Thanks for telling me and I did change it to Margarita. Thank you for reading!**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: I WANT THEM TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE KIDS TOO, MAN. I'M JUST NOT SURE IF IT'LL HAPPEN SINCE THE WORLD WAS - STILL IS - A CRAZY PLACE.**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Thanks! I like making little references to the musical. And yeah, I was thinking about doing the French Revolution and marriage. Thanks for the ideas though!**

 **BriCat03: Same with the screaming because OH MY GOD, NOW I'M IMAGINING TINY LAFAYETTES RUNNING AROUND AND I'M GLAD I CAN SPUR EMOTION WITH MY WRITING. I hope this didn't tug at your heartstrings... It probably did. Is it too late to say sorry?**


	12. Schuyler Mansion

**A/N: Recap of last chapter in case you couldn't/didn't read it-A man, Harcourt, challenged Genevieve to a spar. However, it went too far and it shook Genevieve up due to his inappropriate and illegal attempts. Washington sent her home and Alexander wrote a letter to his wife about what happened. Genevieve cannot sleep now, too traumitized to do so but she writes to her father about what happened and writes a letter to Lafayette that she had not yet given to him. She plans to give it to him right before he leaves.**

 **Warning: Swearing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Schuyler Mansion**

 _July 20, 1781_

Eliza Hamilton stood on the veranda, Peggy beside her as they stared off at the road. A letter in her hands, the younger Schuyler raised her head. Anger blazed in her eyes and barbed insults on the tip of her tongue. Eliza smiled at her sister's enthusiasm as shapes appeared on the horizon.

"Are they here?" Angelica inquired, appearing at the front door with their father. He stood tall, a man of forty-eight, yet too proud to use a cane. Only when their mother insisted would he bring out the silver walking cane. And of course, Catherine Van Rensselaer Schuyler happened to be out of town. They joined the other two of the porch, watching as the shapes grew closer.

"Almost, and Peggy cannot _wait_ to see her dearest brother-in-law."

"I'm more excited to insult the both of them rather than see them" She retorted, referring to John Laurens and giving the letter to her eldest sister and crossing her arms. "Is Mr. Alcott coming?" Angelica read through the words she had already memorized. The words that caused anger, frustration and the thirst for blood to brew amongst the three of them, signed by her brother-in-law. So they readied their weapons - all whip-smart in three different ways and armed with sharp, barbed tongues, the men approaching should cower in fear.

The Schuyler sisters were a terrifying force to reckon with.

"He's under the weather." Their father informed gruffly as Bennett and Ettie ran down the hall and out onto the porch. Ettie was nursing little pricks of the needle on her fingers as Bennett wiped sweat away from his brow. Philip Schuyler was gracious enough for the two Alcott siblings to stay at his house. His own daughters were extremely fond of the whole family as much as he didn't like their pacifistic father.

"You must've given him your stomach flu, Eliza."* Peggy remarked and Eliza flushed, hand raising to tuck hair behind her ear. They came out onto the veranda just as Angelica hid the letter. Her siblings didn't know the exact reason why their sister was coming home. Even Angelica had agreed that between Bennett's 'never thinking before doing' attitude and her sister growing into a woman with fantasies of love, that it would only suit for Genevieve to tell them in person.

"Bennett, what'd I say about dirt in the house?" Philip Schuyler inquired steely when he noted the dust tracking inside. Eliza stifled a grin as Angelica rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, sir. I lost track of the time and I rushed. Are they here yet?" He asked, a mop of hair falling over his eyes. Peggy snorted, tucking Ettie into her side as the shapes came closer.

"Almost," Angelica muttered as the gates opened. "Come on." They descended down the steps just as Alexander dismounted from his horse. Eliza let out a shriek and sprinted into his arms. All etiquette went out the window - this was her husband she loved more than anything. Despite only seeing him two months ago when he had taken three days leave, Eliza couldn't contain the joy and anticipation in her.

Angelica could barely restrain the two Alcott siblings as Philip Schuyler cleared his throat. John held out his arms, a smirk loose on his face as Peggy hugged him tightly. For a moment, all anger was gone. Angelica knew that later, her younger sisters would be screaming at the men they were hugging for letting Genevieve out of their sight. It was just what family did.

While they were indulging in the embrace of their men, Angelica watched steadily as Hercules Mulligan dismounted and helped Lafayette do so as well. The Frenchman seemed to be nursing wounds, evident by the healing scar on his forehead and the way his arm wrapped around his abdomen.

"Quite an escort, Ms. Alcott." She commented and Genevieve snorted. Swinging a leg off the saddle, she landed on the ground with a thud. Taking off the packs of her things, she slung them over her shoulders. Exhaustion was marked by the black circles around her eyes and the paleness of her skin. Her eyes were sunken in and it appeared as if the woman hadn't slept in a century. _God, I've never seen someone so dead._

"Angelica."

"Genny," and then they were in each other's arms. Lafayette remarked something about how she was like a fourth Schuyler sister but Angelica didn't bother to listen to her friend's _monsieur_. Bags dropped to the ground as they squeezed the life out of each other.

"Eliza, Peggy!" Genevieve broke out into an unused smile, lighting up her face. The shadow didn't quite lift from her face, too dark to shake but it was temporarily brighter. Her smile, however, while changed from desuetude, was still Genevieve's smile at the very end.

"The Schuyler sisters." Alexander agreed, pushing his wife towards the brunette. Peggy joined in the huddle and the four men watched the four women embrace tightly.

"Bennett? Ettie? Come here."

"Do you think she'll be fine?" John murmured as the actual Alcott siblings ran into their sister, tackling her to the ground. They laughed as they hugged their sister but everyone watched as soon as her siblings' heads were on her shoulders and unable to see her face, the smile dropped momentarily. Instead, it weighed down into a grimace.

"Her family is what she needs." Lafayette murmured, happy at least to see her beautiful smile again even if it was just for a moment. When her siblings pulled back, the smile returned although more forced. The quick, sharp glint had not yet disappeared from her eyes, thankfully.

"But you wish you were what she needed," Hercules said and he didn't deny it. Philip Schuyler's gaze went from amused at his daughters to commanding as he looked at the men. In an instant, they all stood taller. Lafayette winced when it seemed the Philip Schuyler's eyes stripped him down, inspecting to see if he were good enough for Genevieve. As if he were courting his daughter.

 _You may as well be._ Mr. Schuyler's gaze seemed to say.

"She'll be back before we know it," John stated confidently. Watching the six of them pull apart and begin to go up to the house, he raised his head. Genevieve had her arm around Eliza and Bennett as Peggy, Angelica and Ettie went on ahead, helping to carry her bags up to the mansion. The head of the Schuyler family watched the men carefully still as if waiting for one of them to slip.

"Come on, let's go inside." He invited and the four glanced at each other, nervous. "Well?"

Three variations of 'Coming, sir!' met his ears but Lafayette was too on edge to add his own contribution. Hercules slapped his back, snapping him out of his daze and they began to make their way up to the house. The horses were led off to the stables by servants as the men's conversation slowed to a stuffy halt. It was hard to talk in front of a war hero who could be or was their father-in-law.

.

Dinner was quite… awkward. Genevieve knew it as soon as she sat wedged between her siblings. Firstly, the bruise on her cheek had faded to a gross yellow-green that she had to explain to her siblings as simply a battle wound - a butt of a gun to the jaw. A lie that slipped right between her teeth. And, she was wearing one of Lafayette's old shirts that she had grown fond of. It was softer than most but scratchy in certain places - exhausted in all the right places - and held his scent deeply.

It wasn't frightening, like how she always looked over her shoulder when she was alone but more nostalgic and fond.

Schuyler sat at the head of the table, Alexander to his right and his eldest, Angelica, to his left. Beside Alexander was, of course, his wife, Eliza, then John, Peggy, and Hercules Mulligan who was surprisingly subdued for the normally rambunctious personality he had. On Angelica's side were Ettie and Bennett sandwiching Genevieve between them as Lafayette shared nervous, uneasy glances with his fellow friends, especially Alexander who was seated right next to him. Angelica watched their interactions with amusement but didn't say anything of it as Peggy raised an eyebrow at John while Eliza at least gave a smile to her husband.

It seemed as if the sisters' harsh scolding wasn't erased from their minds yet.

Every single woman in the room except her was wearing a dress. While she dressed in loose slacks and a thick shirt provided by a man, the Schuyler sisters wore gowns in their signature colors of red, green, and yellow. And she felt completely out of place, disconnected as Mr. Schuyler had scolded her lightly - blaming the exhaustion marked under her eyes as the reason why she would be so torpid.

She'd wear a dress; squeeze into a corset tomorrow. She was too tired to care. As they rode from Monmouth to Albany, she felt like she hadn't slept a wink at all. Eventually, her body had to shut down but she always woke up whenever possible and as soon as possible. The paranoia was out to get her, especially when she was traveling with three other men before meeting up with Hercules.

Secondly, Genevieve knew that every single stare landed on her at least three times. Bennett kept speaking about how he was this close to asking a girl's father for permission to court her while Ettie spoke about needlework and a boy she had seen near the baker's. It didn't matter that it was Lafayette's stare over Bennett's head as he ducked his head to eat or Eliza's glowing gaze on her from across the table or even Ettie as she asked her sister to watch her demonstrate what she learned.

Every stare felt the same. Stripping her layers back until only her scarred heart was laid bare and her traumatized brain could be dissected. Every stare felt like his.

Thirdly, and lastly. What happened when they actually commenced eating. Philip Schuyler had opted to use the second dining room, one set for thirteen, due to convenience for the servants that would serve them and pure indolence. No one would want to set extra chairs and drag tables. Besides, this was what passed as a 'low-maintenance' affair, right? A family dinner - a 'getting to know you' dinner.

"Where's Mr. Church?" Hercules offered as a conversation starter that would include everyone and Angelica looked up sharply from the soup being served. The antique wooden surface of the table was, in itself, a testament to how expensive it was but Lafayette tapped his fingers against it out of nervousness anyway.

Philip Schuyler cleared his throat, dark eyes pinning on the Son of Liberty.

It was clear where each Schuyler sister had gotten their sharp, piercing glare.

A mien that that Genevieve had unconsciously adopted and mastered as well.

Lafayette didn't hear the response, only nodded in thanks when the servant placed the carefully ladled bowl of soup back into his plate. Raising her head, Genevieve rolled her shoulders back, trying to get used to the fact that she was dressed in a shirt rather than a corset. While on the other side of Bennett, Lafayette was praying to God that Schuyler did not call on him to speak.

"Genevieve," the forty-eight-year-old man spoke the name not harshly but with the tone of his voice, anything could have passed as harsh. His voice was rough with war but still held the warm undertones only reserved for family. The man of the hour, Philip Schuyler caught everyone's attention even though they weren't the ones addressed. "Is it true that you've allowed a Frenchman - in fact, the Frenchman dining with us today - seduce you into his bed?"

"Sir-" she began, startled. This was certainly not the right time or place to start this conversation. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she ducked her head, out of embarrassment and to hide the panic that masked her face.

But Philip Schuyler had never laid eyes on the letter Eliza had received just two weeks ago. And he was completely in the dark of what had to have happened for Genevieve to be even sitting where she was then. There was the sound of quiet sips as Alexander looked at the stock-still marquis.

Their eyes met and there was the smallest twitch that said 'Stay quiet.' Lafayette's eyes met Schuyler's dark ones before returning to the white soup in his bowl. Spooning it, he felt a green gaze burn into his cheek. Then, there was one word uttered, monosyllabic and quiet.

"Yes."

And it was said as she raised her head, fixing the same stare on him that he used on his son-in-law and his friends.

"A young one, isn't he? Tell me, then," at this, Lafayette raised his head from his soup. Genevieve's eyes were full of expressing on how done she was with this dinner already. They were only on appetizers and already, it was going poorly. "Has his voice even broken yet? He looks no older than eighteen!" He chuckled before turning to look at his middle daughter, "Elizabeth, are you sure he's a soldier and he isn't just some urchin you girls picked off the street? Your kindness will be the death of us all." The overbearing father smiled when she flushed. Peggy bit her lip, unwilling to step into the crossfire but also wanting to help.

But Angelica wasn't one to stand by. " _Father_." Her tone was a warning and the look she sent him said everything else. Of course, he decided to completely disregard her.

"Don't be trivial. We all know how this boy seemed to have enraptured Genevieve." The man scoffed and Genevieve's eyes filled with irritation.

"Father, they're both sitting _right there._ " Peggy informed coolly.

"It's fine." She lied through her teeth. "Lafayette is a handsome man."

"An arrogant immigrant _boy_ who doesn't speak an ounce of English wouldn't understand a single syllable falling from my lips, Margarita. He wouldn't care if I were insulting him, would he?" Alexander looked at Lafayette, eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline as he tried to contain his laugh. Of course he would find this situation funny. Eliza beside him just returned to drinking her soup quietly as Angelica and Peggy shared looks over the dining table.

Bennett and Ettie looked back and forth between their older sister and Lafayette, waiting for a response. The two, along with John and Hercules spectated the argument as Genevieve scowled. The silence was agonizing and she turned to look at Lafayette, green eyes narrowed as if to say, _'Oh, my god.'_ John just slurped on his soup as Hercules looked up at the ceiling, admiring the chandelier as if it were the most beautiful piece of work ever to meet his eyes.

"Apologies, but, I think I may have charmed her by using my English," Lafayette commented suddenly in his most forced polite and unaccented tone. But as always, he knew that he slipped once or twice into the French lilt. Immediately, Genevieve turned back to Schuyler with a raised eyebrow and with all the sass in the world, said:

"Would you look at that? He does care and it might be because he speaks English quite fluently, Mr. Schuyler."

Eliza covered her smile with the napkin as Peggy snorted into her soup, trying to stop the undignified laugh threatening to overtake her. John sent her a cheerful smile as Angelica had a coughing fit with Alexander.

At least, on his part, Philip Schuyler had the grace to look shocked, "They said you didn't speak a word of it." Lafayette's nerves were numb as he clenched a fist under the table. That might've been the wrong thing to say on both their parts. _Why couldn't I have just said, 'Pardon, but I do speak English.' Or not say anything at all?_ He asked himself, irritated. When he was met with that stare again, he swallowed a spoonful of hot soup that nearly scorched his throat. Clearing it, he laid down his spoon and leaned back into his chair.

No matter - he was in a hole he couldn't dig himself out of. Might as well dig deeper, then maybe he'd find a diamond. "Did 'they' tell you that I have golden eyes like an eagle, a fleet of ships and a sleek combover?" Still, silent disbelief. "In that case, they may need to get his Frenchmen right. Even then, Rochambeau's heavy accent doesn't mask the fact that he can still speak a little of English."

By that moment, it was completely quiet as Hercules slid his spoon back onto his plate with a soft clang. Then, a loud boisterous laugh.

"Well, shit, if I haven't made enough bad first impressions. Called John Church, a what was it again, Angelica?"

"The most unimaginative, stodgy, banal man with the most ridiculous voice and fastidious beard you've ever met." Angelica recited immediately, having recovered from her coughing. She cleared her throat, resuming an elegant posture. "I can't help but agree." She added dryly.

"And you called me a creole bastard who should scurry back to my whore mother's arms and that I should stay the hell away from your daughter." Alexander inputted brightly although the way Eliza's smile dimmed and the movement of her arm under the table to hold Alexander's hand, Lafayette knew that Schuyler had yet to be forgiven for what he said to the younger soldier.

"Exactly. The point is that no man is good enough for my daughters, no matter how rich, good looking or well spoken they are." Genevieve flushed at being categorized with his daughters as Ettie held her hand under the table. Bennett nudged her subtly and she rolled her eyes.

Lafayette nodded anyway to agree. With John's fading and faint, British accent, Alexander's Caribbean brogue and his own Parisian lilt, the comment's target was unsure. It was definitely not Hercules but had John Church been here instead, he would have been just as confused. "Of course, sir." The marquis added for good measure.

Already, he wanted to run. This wasn't going to be easy if they all did was talked about him and in return, him firing back quick-witted retorts. For God's sake, he'd probably have to ask this man for a blessing in the future for good measure.

Of course, he was saved when servants swept into the room with new dishes and their soups were taken away. Genevieve kept sending him half-glances across the table but otherwise, speaking was limited to the Schuyler and Alcott siblings, the only people comfortable in Schuyler's presence.

"So… boy." Lafayette stiffened, spine straightening as he raised his head from the tender slab of meat on his plate. Every head raised with his and they watched quietly as Philip Schuyler smiled slightly. "What kind of soldier are you if not a naval officer? If my daughters are truly telling the truth, then they say you have a distinguished military career. Of course," he sniffed as Alexander choked on a sip of wine. "I would hear it from Genevieve had she not run away." Coughing, he tried to cover it with a napkin as Eliza sighed, patting her husband on the back.

Alexander's tendency to choke on whatever was in his mouth was abnormally high that night. Lafayette couldn't exactly blame him.

"Sir!"

"Don't be stupid as you were then." His words were just an aching reminder of what happened - because she was a woman, it happened. A woman in the army, a woman under a man's clothes. Closing her eyes, she set her jaw and kept it shut. Either Schuyler politely ignored it or he somehow managed to fail in noticing it completely.

"Excuse me, sir, but if there's something Genevieve isn't, it's stupid." Lafayette retorted hotly and the head of the family made a small sound at the back of his throat, somewhere between displeased and surprised. "While you were away, she managed your business - your ships. That isn't an easy thing to do. She-"

"Lafayette," John warned quietly. Even if Genevieve wasn't a Schuyler by blood, it was obvious she was one by honor. Knowing her for nearly a decade wasn't all for nothing and their support was one of the reasons she was in the army in the first place.

"She brought ships to America. Ones that saved us not only from the winter but the war." His voice became quiet, just now noticing that all the attention was on him. Angelica, Eliza and Alexander's quiet conversation in front of Schuyler was brought to a halt and Hercules cleared his throat awkwardly. While he said these words, she looked at the sisters. _Not alone. It'd be too much to do alone._ They smiled.

"Lafayette," she mumbled and he looked at her, eyes softening. Her gauntness hit him right in the face and he could almost feel the riptides of exhaustion and weariness that crashed on her like waves during a thunderstorm. In her eyes said, ' _You can endure the impudent foolishness of this man for one night. We both can.'_

 _'I'll behave,'_ he promised. ' _What's a war if I can't survive a formal dinner?'_ He added and with half a laugh in her eyes that sparked life, she turned back to her meal. Joy flowed in his veins when he saw it, a warm smile surfacing on his own face.

"He's Major General Lafayette, Father," Angelica informed slowly as if, like water to flour, needed a few moments to sink into his old brain. Somehow, they'd been brought back to the original question. _Thank God for Angelica Schuyler_. Lafayette thought silently but when the woman's father was still quiet, the positive thought vanished. Did he overestimate the reputation that preceded him?

But it appeared Philip Schuyler didn't seem like a man who really cared about anything or anyone that did not directly associate with himself as a person or to his family. Although still a renowned General in his own right, Lafayette wasn't completely surprised when Philip Schuyler didn't exactly respond. But now, he'd have to know the marquis because the Frenchman was directly associated with Genevieve.

Damn it.

"The secret immigrant weapon?" Alexander provided, "America's favorite fighting Frenchman?" It would've passed as Alexander trying to be helpful had they not known him. Everyone at the table knew that he was poking fun out of his father-in-law. Eliza glared sharp daggers at her husband. He looked at her with a half-smirk, his expression sheepish.

Her words earlier that day were exactly, "Behave and maybe my father won't rip you to shreds tonight." And it appeared he hadn't taken those words to heart. But then again, Alexander was lucky. Tonight, her father was more interested in his friends.

Alexander was even more lucky that John wasn't the one under the spotlight. He wasn't quite sure that the man's pants would be dry after a conversation with Schuyler about Peggy.

While all this was happening, Philip Schuyler was quiet, trying to orient himself.

"I'm one of Washington's many tacticians and I serve under him on the battlefield," Lafayette informed, trying to keep his distaste from his voice. Instead, he employed a bright smile that he'd used against the many Ducs in France. Hopefully, it'd win over the General. After all, didn't a veteran like Philip Schuyler love to talk about the war? Perhaps if he named a battles he had lead in, it would take the spotlight off of himself for a while. Then, he'd have room to breathe and not become a sweaty mess. "At Brandywine, Barren Hill, and the recent Battle of Monmouth."

"Ah, yes. Charles Lee fled from that one, didn't he?" It seemed that was the right battle to name as Philip Schuyler went on a tirade on Charles Lee. He went somewhere along the lines of, "Back in my day, men like Lee would've been sent home in basic!" before somehow bringing it to himself where he began to tell tall tales of his own youth. His own battles were probably colorfully fabricated and extremely amplified to state how heroic he was - how he earned his reputation and name. On his part, Lafayette graciously allowed it. This wouldn't be the first time a superior officer began to tell of the days gone by to him.

Luckily, being born in the French aristocracy gave him the skills needed to be an awfully good listener.

Philip Schuyler droned on and on about his exploits in Canada, seizing redoubts left and right with only a hatchet and ten half-starved men wielding nothing but sawed off muskets and only a box of rations to share between the eleven of them. Genevieve rolled her eyes at the Schuyler sisters who nodded in agreement. It was as if they were saying, ' _Not again.'_

There are always men who had a unique knack for telling stories, making time fly faster than a bullet. Philip Schuyler, although to his credit, tried his best without making it seem so abundantly clear, was not one of those men. At the very border of his hearing range - he had zoned out of whatever the man of the hour was saying - he could hear nine subtle taps. His gaze drifting from Schuyler to Genevieve, she sported a reluctant smile. Understanding the message, he groaned inwardly.

 _It's only nine,_ he thought helplessly. _Dear Lord, help me._ However, he kept the smile on his face and kept nodding, making interjections of awe at all the right times. Hercules sent him a sympathetic glance before leaning beside him to hear what Peggy was saying. With the attention solely on Lafayette, the rest of them sectioned themselves off. Eliza, Angelica, and Alexander had their own little trio in front of Schuyler while the Alcott siblings were their own group and that left John, Peggy, and Hercules by themselves.

At least one person was looking out for him as he was left to the wolf.

"Would you look at the time?" Genevieve interrupted and as Schuyler brought his tale to a close, he leaned back and looked at the grandfather clock.

"Dear God, is that really the time? It can't be, can it?"

And everyone in the room thought: _Yes, yes it can be._

Then there was a hearty laugh. "I seem to lose track of time when I tell stories of when I was younger." _I didn't._ _In fact, you made minutes stretch into hours._ Lafayette thought wryly, "Boy," he looked at the man. Apparently that was his name now. "I would bet you my mansion that you had never heard such adventures among your Frenchmen, have you?"

 _You wouldn't believe it but I have heard more extreme tales._ The _marquis_ mused flatly. Aloud, he said, "I cannot say that I have."

"Well, then," he got up shakily, old war wounds taking a toll on his health. As servants began to clear away the table, Angelica immediately got to her feet, steadying her father with an offered arm. He grunted, clutching onto his daughter before straightening up with an air of superiority. Lafayette then decided that Philip Schuyler was just like the generic soldier past his time. A braggart, suspicious of the young now and having extremely high standards, he thrived off an attentive listener or two at the dinner table. Too proud to thank the help he was given but takes it anyway, a father who believes in the utmost importance of his image and making sure his children were spoilt and happier than possible.

Honorable, esteemed; a war veteran who still thinks himself in his prime.

Easy to please if you had just the right amount of patience.

As one, the rest of the guests rose as Angelica pulled away. Philip Schuyler stood tall and turned to look at Lafayette. "It was a pleasure meeting you, General Schuyler." He enunciated carefully.

"Same to you." The man replied stiffly out of etiquette. "Angelica, help your father to the den. I'd like to do a bit of reading before I retire."

"Father, you need to rest."

"And I can rest in the den - you're sounding too much like your mother." Peggy chuckled as the eldest Schuyler sister wrapped her arm around her father's.

"And we're supposed to assume that that was an insult, Father? Mother is the only one who can control you and if Angelica can do the same, I think we have our own secret weapon." Peggy commented swiftly as her arm came around John's waist. Her father ignored the comment as the two begun to leave. Bennett and Ettie lead their sister out of the dining room and out towards her bedroom up the stairs.

Lafayette sighed. The dinner wasn't as terrible as he had anticipated. As long as he didn't need to attend another one, he'd be fine. Eliza sent him a warm smile as if to welcome and apologize to him, and Alexander flashed him a thumbs-up. Offering his arm, he escorted his wife to their joined room which left Lafayette alone with Hercules.

"You're going to ask that man for a blessing?" The tailor asked, amused. "Good luck, brother." Lafayette groaned, feeling stuffy from the meal and from the uncomfortable scene he had just participated in for the past three hours. The dishes had changed from a tender roast to variants of bread, salads, cured meats and desserts. More than he had eaten in months.

"I thought you didn't like Genevieve." He remarked as his best friend shook his head with a smile.

"Man, I don't like it when she hurts you." He corrected before letting out a massive yawn. "Come on, we gotta leave at noon tomorrow. Let's get some sleep."

.

It had been a while since Lafayette had slept on his own in his own room. It was too quiet, the only company he had being the quiet tick of the clock in his room. Besides that, it was so eerily quiet. There were occasionally shuffles early on, specifically in Alexander and Eliza's room but they had died down once the time had slipped into one in the morning. He laid there on the bed, silently wondering what the others were doing.

When they were travelling, he could always hear Alexander's snoring or John's quiet shifts as he slept. He'd always hear one of them ask (more often than not it was John) ask if his wounds were okay - if they were still closed. And he'd laugh and say yes, he was fine. That he didn't persuade the doctor to let him leave only to split open his wounds again. And Genevieve, every night, would unwrap his bandage and exchange it for a clean one, no matter how frightening it was for her. A forced smile on her face, she'd withdraw as quickly as possible as soon as the task was done because she was the best at it. But he knew it terrified her to be so close to men all the time.

His leg had long healed and he could walk fine, it was just that goddamn abdominal wound that scared the life out of her the first time that still ached. And he tried to make her smile. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he didn't. But what mattered was that they were both trying.

Trying to get past the mess they were in.

He'd been awake for five hours.

He watched the long hand slowly tick by the six, the shorter one just bumping forward a bit by the five. _5:30._ Rolling over in his bed, he stared at the wall. As he felt the minutes crawl by in his bones, heart pounding in his ears, he heard a faint brush. In the silent house, it was like that was magnified by ten. Sitting up slowly as to not agitate his side, he ran a hand through his unruly, wild curls. A creak of wood, the click of a door.

Someone was definitely awake.

And in Lafayette's mind, it wasn't hard to guess who. Throwing off the covers, he glanced out the window where the clear summer sky revealed the moon and stars in its brilliance. His window was open, cool night air swishing into the room pleasantly as he sat up. There was a soft rhythm of steps and he looked at the slit between the door and the floor, a faint orange glow passing by along with footsteps. He got out of bed, grabbing his shirt blindly before using the moon's light to make sure he put it on with the right way forward. After making sure it was the right way and not inside out, he tied his hair up quickly, motions practiced as he brushed the hair away from his face.

Shuffling his feet across the floor, he opened his door as quietly as he could and looked across the hall. The door was closed, meaning Peggy was asleep. Looking to his left, he saw that Angelica's door was shut and to his right, Alexander's was shut as well. However, the one next to Alexander's, the one right at the end of the hall was open.

That was her room.

He slipped out of his, letting the door close with a quiet click. The grand staircase was bathed in silver light from the grand windows that were mounted on the walls. The thick curtains were pulled back to allow light in and Lafayette ran a hand over the polished mahogany rail. Descending the steps quietly, he carefully explored the house, sneaking around like a mouse.

The den was empty, and he got a bit twisted when he saw the same bathrooms multiple times but managed to find his way to the drawing room. The door was open but when he peeked inside, there was no one there. So he backtracked and somehow found Schuyler's office where he hastily fled the scene of. Then, he turned a series of rights and went down another flight of steps to the ground floor and got to the dining rooms. One's door was open and he walked quietly up to the slit, peering inside. Immediately, he saw Genevieve sitting at the head of the table. It sat seven people and it was relatively small compared to the table they had used earlier that night. A candle burned in its holder, illuminating her face that was etched with conflict, as if she were debating something.

Opening the door, he knocked his fingers against the wood to alert her of his presence. In an instant, her head snapped up and she tensed. Freezing, he waited for her to recognize him before continuing further.

"Lafayette?" In the room, the curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light was the candle. She held up the brass holder and he smiled.

" _C'est moi._ " Sighing, she settled the holder back onto the table, "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you?" She shot back, rubbing at her eyes. He eyed the seat diagonally left of her and she nodded. Pulling the chair back, Lafayette sat down. The candle illuminated both their faces as she looked down into her lap. Under her robe, he could see she was still wearing his shirt and a loose pair of pants. The yellow-green bruise, a blunt reminder of what happened, made his stomach churn as she looked up.

"I know you have not been sleeping well since we left New Jersey." He murmured and she fiddled with something in her lap. When she slid it onto the table side farther away from him, he realized it was a sealed letter. The flame didn't provide enough light to see the name but he didn't bother to ask who it was for.

"I'm scared to." She admitted softly, left hand resting on the table. He looked at appendage, limp and pale. Even her skin seemed to have lost its color. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. And I… I feel like I can't-"

"Sh…" he urged and she broke off, closing her eyes before opening them again.

"Tonight's dinner was awful. I'm sorry about Mr. Schuyler," she continued on quietly and he nodded.

"What is it about him that makes you like him?"

"He's a good man. Just stuck in the past and protective of his family. War changes how a person thinks and for a man like him, he never thinks that too much action exists. You heard the reports - he had to be forced to step down due to his health decline."

"Well, you sisters obviously didn't get your sharp tongues from someone like William Alcott." He teased and the corner of her lips quirked up. His fingers rested at the lip of the table, wrist hanging down as his eyes flickered down to her hand again.

"I suppose. My father's too kind to say something like that. Maybe it was my mother. She and Philip Schuyler would have scolded our ears off had they known each other." He made a humming noise in the back of his throat. Her gaze drifted across the table, resting momentarily on the fireplace before settling on the drawn curtains. "I miss her sometimes."

"I understand." At this, a half-smile came onto her face.

"I know." There was a long moment of silence. One where there was nothing left to say yet it was okay because they were still alive - still together. Finally, she spoke up, "You know what this room is? What it means?"

"No," he said because 'dining room' sounded like the wrong answer. A nostalgic smile crossed her lips and her right index finger traced small circles on the expensive wood, hand moving in motion as it floated across the rich brown.

"It's where Hercules Mulligan told me that Rochambeau made it to America. I had maps, charters, ledgers, and pages of writing spread across this table, trying to find out how to get Mr. Schuyler's ships passed when I realized that the French didn't make it past the British barricade." Her green eyes were distant, staring into the table. He looked at her, head slightly tilted when the woman broke out of her trance to look at him. "And I sat in the chair you were sitting now as the winter raged outside and I wondered if you were still alive."

"Gen…"

"Clearly you were." She added after a while. "Lafayette…"

"Mhm?"

"Why are you up in the first place?"

"It's been a long time since I've had a room to myself," he admitted, "and the silence was not comfortable. I heard you moving down the hall, so I decided to join you. There's a war outside this mansion. I want to find all the peace I can get." His answer made her enervated self smile and he leaned back into the chair, rubbing his eyes.

"You should sleep; a full day is ahead of you and you're wounded," she eyed his side warily and he shrugged. It had not been a complete bother for a while. "If you were any other soldier, you'd still be confined to camp."

"But, I'm not." He riposted, leaning onto the table. The dark-eyed man faced her and smiled. "I think you know that." A hand slowly crept towards hers. She was completely aware of it and when it paused just before touching her fingers, Genevieve took a deep breath. "If you aren't ready-"

And she released it, placing her hand in his and curling her fingers over his hand as he did the same. When it was done, she seemed to relax. "I won't ever be ready if I don't just do it." The words were quiet and he nodded.

"You can't force the healing process."

"I know. I just need to take the first step, I guess." Again, that smile.

There was a lapse into silence where they didn't speak, only zoned out into their own thoughts. The bone-rattling dong of the grandfather clock brought them out of their senses and they both jumped, hands springing apart.

Lafayette caught his breath, a disbelieving smile on his face from the fact that he got scared from a clock. It faded when he realized Genevieve stood.

"Lafayette, go sleep. A long road awaits you tomorrow." She muttered swiftly as a goodbye and he stood as well. Her fingers wrapped around the holder's handle and there was a moment where she paused as if debating whether to take the letter or not too. Curiosity nipped at him when she did. Then she began to leave, towards the door and her head turned to the side but not completely to look at him.

There was something she wanted to say that she couldn't.

He couldn't let her leave.

"The sun is rising soon." Her figure halted and he proceeded, "Genevieve, I want to show you the sunrise." The brunette turned around, a mask of confusion on her face, "Can I take you?"

"Where?" He debated keeping it a surprise - after all, where's the fun if one knew where they were going? But then, Lafayette knew she wouldn't go if he did so.

"To the top of my home. We can see the sunrise from there." He promised and her eyes narrowed at him as if judging if he were lying or not. "I will go there now. And… if you don't want to go, that's fine. But if you want a proper view of the sun," he gave a half-smile, "you'll know where to find me."

.

Genevieve retreated to her room, immediately closing the door and locking it. She knew that Lafayette was gone - he had left as soon as she went back up the stairs. Leaning against the door, she slid down and settled the candle beside her. Looking at the envelope, she brushed her fingers across where she wrote his name.

Did she give it to him? When?

When she had written it, she was so sure of telling him what she knew. Now, she was flooded with uncertainty. Genevieve sighed, knowing each word she had written in it by heart.

 _"... know that in another life, in another time, the one I loved most was you."_

 _"You'll know where to find me."_

Was it possible for someone as magnificent as Lafayette to still care about her, a goddamned mess? In her heart, she knew the answer.

Forcing herself up, the brunette surveyed her room. She had a jacket she could wear instead of her robe, a hat to tuck her hair into.

Wait. Was she seriously considering meeting a man in the middle of the night where no one could help her? Her heart raced without her knowing but when she placed her palm against her chest, she could feel it pulse rapidly.

 _Stop it_. Her heart scolded, _It's Lafayette. You trust Lafayette. Come on, get it together._ She raised her head, took a deep breath with her eyes closed and let it out. _Now, get your jacket on._ It was like her heart was backseat driving, overpowering whatever she wanted. _Where are my boots?_ ** She thought dazedly, falling to her knees and looking under the table and bed. Sweeping her gaze around, she spotted them near the credenza. Pulling them on hastily, she tied her hair up into a messy bun and stuffed her hat with her head. Grabbing her boots and jacket, she put them on and hid the envelope in the pocket of her jacket.

 _Now, get yourself out the door and to the stables. Come on. Do I need to remind you again that Lafayette is trustworthy? You_ love _him!_ Her jerky movements paused. _You love him._

And she knew that somewhere, she did. She did, so much. It was one of the only reasons she was going in the first place. Trust and love went hand in hand. Genevieve knew that.

Descending down the steps, she made sure she didn't cause any creaks that could be avoided. Slipping out the door, she breathed in the cooler summer air. It filled her lungs and felt liberating. Throwing out her arms to the side, she enjoyed the way it swirled around her and caught in the small strands of her hair.

Jumping off the veranda, she began to make her way towards the stables where Schuyler's horses slept. Letting out a half-breathless laugh, she barely stopped herself from twirling around - the night just held so much freedom. But she had to get to Lafayette's in time. Hopefully, no one would be there in the stables Sometimes, the stablemen would sleep with the horses in case thieves would come in the middle of the night. Of course, the horses were trained to put up a fuss should a stranger would approach.

Luckily, her chestnut stallion knew her not to be a stranger. Approaching the stables, she pushed open the door and heard some horses snort and raise their head at the newcomer. "Châtain?"*** Her horse nickered, alerting her that he was awake and she slipped inside and towards his stall. Finding his riding gear, she opened the gate, saddled him up and fit the bit to his mouth before leading him out into the night air.

Patting him on the nose and scratching him under the chin, they began to walk towards the gate. The chain wrapped around it was already loosened and she cocked her head, untangling it with a gentle clink. Lafayette must've picked the lock, obvious from how it laid open on the ground. Picking it up, she nudged one side of the gate opened and lead Châtain through before following after. Looping the metal through the bars, she secured it with the lock.

Neighing, Châtain stomped the ground impatiently and Genevieve shushed him. Shaking it once, twice to make sure it was secure, the brunette mounted her horse and made her way down the path. She knew this city like the back of her mind, and she found the quickest route easily. Urging her horse into a trot, she felt like stares were pricking at the back of her neck and, paranoid, she constantly looked into the dark alleys and over her shoulder.

No one was awake, and any that were weren't outside. Passing the post office and corner store, she approached a tall building. At the bottom was a closed bakery but the stairs to the top floor were still accessible. Dismounting, she straightened her jacket and lead her horse closer to the building. Tying him to the post near the bakery, she pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Stay," she murmured before ascending the steps. There was a door immediately at the top of the steps. Twisting the knob, she raised an eyebrow when it was already unlocked.

Going inside, she swallowed her fear. No lights were on but the beginnings of the sun's awakening colored the sky, giving light to the otherwise dark room. No one was in here.

"Lafayette?" She called to the empty air. Was it all a mistake? _See what happens when I listen to you?_ Her brain seemed to say to her heart. Pounding against her rib cage, the muscle felt tired, worn out. The stress of it all combined with her constant bone-tired state made her easily irritated. "Lafayette!"

"Gen?" She whipped around when she heard a voice and screamed. A door that she never noticed before near the bathroom was open and there was a shape coming down the stairs. The beginnings of the sun illuminated his face. "You came."

"Yeah, obviously." She snorted, hands unclenching from their fists. Placing a hand on her heaving chest, she tried to regain her breath. " _God_ , you scared the living hell out of me!"

"Sorry," he murmured sincerely. "But we've got to get up here if we want to see the actual sunrise." The man held out a hand and she walked over, tentatively placing her hand in his. "Do you trust me?" Before they ascended the steps, he asked it carefully.

"I don't know." She whispered. He nodded as if he knew that was the answer before asking for her other hand. His hand went to his belt and took out a long, thin blade. A stiletto.

"Then take it. Easy to hide in your boot, thin enough to be subtle." It was a simple blade, sharp and silver, but not with the shine of a newly crafted knife. It was worn and weary, a testament to its durability and reliability. The grip had initials carved into them and as she ran a thumb over it, she realized it was an G and an L.**** _Gilbert du Motier, marquis de Lafayette._ She recited in her head. This was Lafayette's. Now it was hers.

"Lafayette-"

"If I try anything on you, you have permission to stab me. I won't be in the same league as Harcourt." He declared and she felt her lip twitch at the thought. This man… this idiot of a man was honorable and she knew that he would never do it. However, to appease him, she carefully slid the blade into the outside of her boot.

"Thank you."

"Normally, a woman would scream at the sight of a blade that isn't a kitchen knife." She arched her eyebrows at him and he chuckled. "And as stated before, you are not most women. Come on," squeezing her hand, he led him up the short flight of steps to a hatch. Apologizing, he let go of her hand.

"It's fine," she muttered, distracted. The darkness of the hallway was suffocating, taunting. Claustrophobic, the brunette tapped her foot impatiently. The blade pressed against her calf and she tried to calm herself with the thought that she had a weapon. If anything were to happen, she had a stiletto, ready to stab someone.

He got the hatch open and it thumped on the roof as he pushed it. Offering his hand again, he helped her out before leading her to the edge of the roof. "Are you sure about this?" For a moment, she was ready to say no. Instead, she said yes. "Then, don't hate me for what I'm about to do." He let go of her hand, took a few paces back - a running start.

"You aren't going to what I think you are, right?" She asked uneasily, looking at the building they were beside. It was someone else's house. The roof's tiles were perfect holds for an expert. He only smirked and sprinted up until the last moment, launching himself into the air. It felt like ice water was thrown on her when for a moment, it was like he was suspended in mid-air. But then he landed with a loud crack. His feet pushed against the shingles and he managed to get to the apex of the roof. He sat on the ridge of the roof, facing the horizon and turning to look at her over his shoulder.

"Come on." With the arrogance and charm as if they were both nineteen again, he smirked. It was so boyish and evocative, she couldn't help but feel like laughing. It bloomed from her chest and it was breathless. For once, they were just two fools in love.

"Are you crazy?" She yelled and he laughed. The wind was picking up, a morning breeze that stung her skin. "Lafayette, someone lives there!"

"Who cares?" He called back as if there were no consequences. Like they were free to do whatever they wanted. "Hurry! Before the sun rises!"

"What if I fall?" She looked over the edge to see the alley below.

"Don't worry, I'll catch you!"

"I hate you!" She began to take a few steps back and he turned around so that he was sitting back towards the sun. His knees were parted and he rested his arms on them, the posture oozing a challenge and hubris only a young man of sixteen could muster.

"You love me, _ma chérie._ " He screamed just as she began to run with all her might. Her muscles stretched pleasantly, embracing each stride and when her foot landed on the lip of the roof, she pushed herself off and onto the next roof. Fingers catching the shingles, she hissed when her fingers scraped against the tiles. Hauling herself up, she pushed against the edge. Her boot slipped and she yelped when hands came under her arms and gave her the extra boost she needed. Panting, she leaned into Lafayette as he settled her beside him.

"Thanks." The exhilaration hadn't faded yet and she felt adrenaline make her head light. There was no reply as the sun began to rise. His knee knocked into hers and she smiled. Straightening her legs down the side of the roof, she leaned back on her hands propping her up.

Night faded away, violet streaking across the sky as stars slowly left for a day's rest, one by one. The beautiful tranquillity couldn't be put into words as the sun completely rose from the skyline. The sky turned an orange and yellow, irradiating the buildings of Albany in a warm glow. It was the peace she needed - a temporary blank in the narrative that only the two of them knew of.

Looking down, Genevieve saw his hand near hers on the ridge of the roof. Placing it on top of his knuckles, she felt a truly genuine smile to cross her face. "Thank you." His wrist twisted so he could tangle their fingers. Looking back out across the city, she sighed. She just wanted to stay in this moment. As soon as they went back down, she'd be thrown into a whirlwind of her life again.

"I wish I could stay," he whispered, "and protect you. But I cannot, and I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I don't need protection when I've got your blade." She assured, not taking her eyes off the sight of their city. "You gave me a moment I needed. Lafayette," her hand slipped into her pocket, taking out the letter like it was precious cargo. "The letter - it's for you."

He took it, running a hand over the dried seal as she did many times before. "What does it say?"

"What I couldn't say before." Her eyes searched his dark ones. The shadow that hung over her disappeared when his smile directed at her - it wasn't even particularly charming. It was just so wide and bright, like the sun. It dispelled any fear she had with him.

"The stiletto I gave you. It was the first weapon I ever had - brought it to the first dinner I ever had with the Duc of Bordeaux and his wife. And it has saved me many times over since my youth of fourteen." His thumb traced absent circles on her scarred knuckles. "I want it to be something you are secure with when nothing else can give you comfort. To assure you that you're safe when I cannot do so."

"It's a sweet gesture,"

"It's a useful one." He corrected and she chuckled, appreciating the amendment. A weapon _was_ useful. "I wish I didn't have to leave, love." The title made her weak and she sighed.

"At least I'll always have you with me. And I will see you again. Maybe then, I'll be better. This will have all been behind us and we can see all the sunrises you want." She promised and he nodded, agreeing. The sky was slowly becoming its normal shade of light blue, the dark twilight receding behind them. He let out a huff of air as the adrenaline slowly flowed away.

"They're only worth watching if you're with me." He said it with such conviction that it nearly made her fall off the roof. Smiling like a fool, she felt her warm blood reach every finger and toe in her body. They turned to each other in synchronization. They were so close, she could almost feel the intensity that radiated from him. Trying to orient herself, she felt the beginnings of panic wrap its seductive tendrils around her but then, " _Mademoiselle_ , may I kiss you?" He asked, gaze flitting from her eyes to her lips. The question for her consent, one that few men rarely asked, allowed her to regain her bearings. And she wanted to say yes, she did. And his eyes said that it was okay to say no. _No._

 _No, no, no._ What she kept saying because Harcourt needed to get the hell off of her.

Squeezing her eyes shut, her lip trembled. And he needed to leave and get his hands off of her. But she couldn't. She was too weak. Too small. A woman. "Don't think about it. We're here in Albany. It's just us." He urged, pulling away and instead embracing her tightly. He leaned over and placed a hand on the back of her head under her hat.

Hugging him back, she buried her face into his neck.

" _Tout est bon. Tout est bon._ " He repeated softly, warmth engulfing her like a blanket. " _Tu es en sécurité ici. Il ne peut pas te trouver._ " His hand rubbed her back as he raised his head. Removing her face from his neck, red as tears slowly slid down her face, she tried to smile. "You beautiful woman, God,"

Her breath was still ragged as he brushed away stray tears with his fingers. Cupping her face in his hands, he smiled. Despite the hiccups that shook her whole body, he still grinned like he found a precious diamond.

"Lafayette,"

"Sh…" and he hugged her again.

"I don't deserve you." Her voice was muffled as he chuckled. "You - I…"

"If anything, I don't deserve you." He assured. "I'll try and come back as soon as I can." He continued optimistically, "After we get through hell, then it will be just us. I promise. _Je t'aime_." And she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into another hug because she knew he was trying to imprint her scent into his mind as she was doing the same.

"Thank you," Genevieve meant it more than he knew. She thought back to 1776 when she was outside the school and him, a Frenchman who was supposed to be a suave debonair, came over to her, stumbled on his words and left an impression on her that she couldn't shake. An idealistic, optimistic man, too good to be real. Who showed her sun rises, how to search for light in the darkest of places, and the deepest love.

Who had just saved her from herself.

"Lafayette, I love you." She told him and he nodded. Her free hand tentatively touched his jaw and brushed against his growing beard. Looking at her with renewed hope, his hand covered hers. "Go off to war. I promise, when you return, I won't be afraid." She repeated and his mouth twitched into a grin.

"A promise you are allowed to break," he searched her eyes for any fear, panic, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Indirectly feeling her pulse, he found that it was steady under her skin.

"I won't."

They turned towards the sun as men and women alike began to leave their homes. A new day, one full of hope as Genevieve rested her head on Lafayette's shoulder. And they were just that - not soldiers; not an immigrant; not a victim; just Genevieve and Lafayette. Just two fools deeply in love.

And everything was as it should be.

 **A/N: The actual chapter is a little under 10k but with this A/N, it's passed the big 10k and it almost 11! Next chapter won't be as long, hopefully.**

 **"Honestly, it's kind of draining." - Burr. I have changed every single _mon chéri_ into _ma_** ** _chérie_ because it was wrong. _Ma_ is feminine. _Mon_ is masculine. I rewrote many parts, adding little bits (especially the dinner scene) and now I'm exhausted. I hope you love the roof scene. That was my favorite in this chapter.**

 **Anyway, I hope you had a happy Easter! I whipped this up real quick after being inspired by RiseUpWiseUp's 'Unimaginable' fic. I think you can still see my review there - it's completely embarrassing. But yeah, the Maddelica fluff (if you have read chapter 11) inspired me to write some Genette fluff because we haven't seen any lately.**

 **Next chapter, I promise we'll see William because he is too good for this world. He's just a kind old man running a tavern. And I'm thinking of writing some scenes at the battle front but I'm not sure yet. I'm also not sure when it'll be done since it's SCHOOL. ARGH. I'll definitely start tomorrow but it might not be finished until next week.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, reviewed and did all that juicy stuff! I'm honestly so grateful and this 10k chapter is for you!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: YO I HOPE IT'S REPAIRED BECAUSE THIS WAS BASICALLY A BASKET FULL OF BUNNIES COMPARED TO LAST CHAPTER.**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Yeah, it was. I didn't have fun writing it. I believe Genny is best friends with all of them but the Schuylers have known her longer. It only seems that way because we never see the sisters while we always see the Revolutionary Set. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **PaintingMusic14: I did not break a pencil because I end up losing what pencils I have, hehe. Anyway, it was a mature subject and I don't think someone should ever joke about that. I take a topic like that and I morph into something important (art? I don't know) that has meaning. It shouldn't be just a scene that happens 'just because it happens'. I don't know if you get that but yeah. I try to make everyone as realistic as I can but sometimes I get away with it. I am so happy that you enjoyed that chapter though and hope you like this one too!**

 **BriCat03: BAHAHAHA more 'It's Quiet Uptown' parodies! I'm sorry I didn't name the horse Ishikawa or some variation of it. I loved your name and you gave me the idea to use a French name for her horse, so thank you for that! :) Unfortunately, your theory is false - Genevieve is not pregnant (luckily). I hope with all the damage I've inflicted that this chapter heals some.**

 ** _* "You must've given him your stomach flu, Eliza."_ Morning sickness is one of the telltale signs you're pregnant. Of course, only Eliza knows so far.**

 **** _Where are my boots?_ Literally my favorite line from Daveed's facebook Q and A. He's a fricken cinnamon roll and it's only fitting for it to be in a Lafayette fic.**

 ***** " _Châtain_?" That's the name Lafayette gave her horse off-screen! It means 'Chestnut-brown.'**

 ****** _The grip had initials carved into them and as she ran a thumb over it, she realized it was an G and an L_. I thought it would be a neat piece of foreshadowing. Sorry to disappoint you but that stiletto is not specifically made for Genevieve. (I'm all for Genevieve as a Lafayette though ;) heheh)**


	13. Albany

**Chapter 13: Albany**

 _July 21, 1781_

The sky had turned into its signature summer blue and few clouds inhabited the sky. Genevieve was dozing, her breaths soft against his collar as he craned to look at her. She looked so peaceful, no sign of strife on her face as she slept. The roof wasn't uncomfortable but it wasn't comfortable either as he kept an arm firmly around her to keep her from falling or slipping. She had bent her knees and tucked into his chest, legs slipping between his as she tried to leech the warmth he radiated.

It was strange. He couldn't quite remember how he got into this situation but he wasn't complaining. Her brown tendrils spilled down her back, the hat long removed to provide comfort. His legs cramped but he didn't say anything until she stirred. Her deep breathing became quicker as her heart and brain woke up.

" _Ma chérie,_ it's morning." He murmured and for a moment, he saw fear glaze over her eyes. Stroking her cheek with a hand, he brushed away the panic and grinned when her eyes fluttered shut again.

"Two more minutes," she mumbled into his chest. Chuckling, he squeezed her arm and leaned on her head, cheek into her hair.

"I have to leave in a few hours. I'd like to eat before then," he teased and she groaned, separating from him.

"Men and their stomachs," she said, voice twisted with faux-disgust as he spun around to face his roof again. Helping her stand up carefully, he squeezed her hand. "Are we doing this together?" She asked, head still foggy with sleep.

"Yes." At that, Genevieve seemed to snap awake. "Always," he promised and she nodded shakily. "Don't run too fast, you'll slip off the shingles. I will count us down and I will not let you fall. That, I promise." Another tentative nod. Their fingers intertwined, the couple glanced at each other.

"If I die, I will kill you." She vowed and he chuckled. "With your own dagger, I swear it."

"I will hold you to it, love." Then he began to tug her down the roof, and with a slight yelp, she followed after. As one, they leapt into the air and for a moment, Genevieve thought she'd plummet to the ground like Icarus. But Lafayette's hand steadied her and when her foot made contact with the next roof, she felt relief and adrenaline flood her veins. The same exhilaration as the first time woke her up and suddenly, she was engulfed in a hug. "Told you. Not a single scratch on you."

"My hero," she grinned. "Thank you again, for the morning." He patted the pocket where the envelope she had given him rested.

"You've already given me enough." He assured. "Let's go downstairs." The _marquis_ began to work on the hatch again as she looked out into the city. Bustling, lively crowds greeted each other as they came and went. Breathing in the wind, she felt her lungs fill with cold air. "Gen?"

"Coming," she called, tearing her gaze away from the tavern and walking back to him. That was her next destination. Lafayette's stomach growled and he flushed. Laughing at his embarrassment, she lead the way down the stairs. This time, the darkness didn't seem so scary when the sun was out and a knife in her boot. "Let's get you some breakfast before you starve."

.

They snuck back in, swiping a few fruits and pastries before sneaking out again. Genevieve could barely hold her giggle when Eliza swept past the closet they were hiding in. Lafayette had to clamp a hand over her mouth as he tried to make more room for the both of them, knowing that although the brunette was having a fun time, she was hyper aware of his movements. Once Mrs. Hamilton passed, she gently pushed open the closet and took a look down each way of the hallway.

"Come on," she whispered, leading the way out the door again before jumping onto Châtain. Her stallion nickered as Lafayette mounted his dun and they nudged the sides to kick off into a trot. The gates, guards posted at them now, opened as they made their way down into the central area of Albany. Slowing to a walk as they began to eat, they exchanged tidbits of desserts they found unexpectedly delicious.

"Try this," he leaned over from his saddle, one hand firmly gripping the reins. Genevieve chewed on her apple before veering off and dropping the core to the ground. Rejoining the road, she swallowed and looked at the firm cake he held.

"What is it?"

"It is a lemon cake, I think." He took a bite to prove it, revealing its yellow insides. "Sweet, but still sour." Taking the cake from his hand, she took a tentative nibble before letting out a slight squeal. "Told you."

"Haha, very funny." She snorted, juggling the pouch of fruit as she took the cake in her hands. "Come on, we're running behind."

.

They reached the house she once called home and they dismounted, going to the tavern. Glancing at the Lafayette, they begun to walk towards the entrance. Patrons were leaving and she opened the door for them who sent her strange looks.

"Thank you," some of them muttered and she nodded, tipping her hat at them. She had completely forgot that she was still dressed as a man. Genevieve entered with Lafayette and immediately saw her father behind the bar as Ollie swerved in between the tables. Her father looked up at the sound of the tinkling and she stared at him.

"Genevieve!" He yelled, getting the attention of all the patrons but he didn't care. He ran around the bar and wrapped both lafayette and Genevieve in a huge hug. "And Lafayette. God, I have prayed every day for you to return home safely - the both of you." He added with a stern look at the _marquis._ "How are you?" He murmured, rubbing a thumb under her eyes and she smiled weakly.

"Good. But, Eliza told me you were sick. Why are you up?" She added with concern and he waved it off.

"I needed to stretch my legs. Both of you, let's go into the living room. I want to catch up. Ollie, can you take over?"

"Of course, sir. Genny," he threw a wink her way, "it's so damn good to see you again."

 _July 25, 1781_

George Washington eyed the map of Virginia, Yorktown in bold lettering. Blinking away the dots in his vision, he sighed and leaned back, gaze drifting to the other various items littered across his desk. A quill and inkpot, some drafts Alexander had written before he left. Rubbing his face, he rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. Exhaustion pulled at every side and he didn't know which way to go.

Harcourt had already been court-martialed and punished with no chance of freedom. Washington had made sure of that. But one thought echoed in his mind as he read the letter Congress had sent. _Why didn't I find them sooner?_ He had been suspicious of the old soldier. There were signs that there wasn't something quite right and yet he tried to reason that he wouldn't go that far. Sighing, he leaned back into his chair. Alexander had defended well, had given accounts and evidence as to why there was no room for the Congress to even doubt what had happened. At least he did one thing right in appointing him as his right hand man.

As one of his personal guards ducked into the tent, George raised his head with his eyes closed. He was trying to find some ounce of solace but when her flushed, crying face and Lafayette's murderous glower appeared in his mind, he gave up. There would be no sleep tonight.

"Sir, there's someone here to see you." Standing, the General nodded and the soldier left, soft words being exchanged before a tall, lean man came in, his hair messy around his face. There was something different - as if he were happier. When Lafayette stopped a metre or so in front of him, he seemed brighter than he had been the past few days - younger. War had not stolen what optimism he had yet.

He was wearing his dark navy coat, one that he was given when he was promoted to Major General. Its double row of golden buttons clasped the double-breasted coat together, wrapping tightly around the chest. Other little golden embellishments decorated across his lapels and around the cuffs were used along with the golden epaulets.*

The Frenchman was extremely fond of it but Washington could faintly remember a rainy spring evening in Valley Forge. He watched from the window of his cabin, a break from organizing the next few weeks of patrols. As the soldiers retreated to their cabins, Lafayette unbuttoned his tailcoat and wrapped an arm around her, covering the both of them with the coat. Without fail, it had made her laugh as they were soaked within seconds.

Perhaps it wasn't that he loved the jacket itself, but loved the memories attached to it - loved the woman he shared them with. "Major General."

"Your Excellency," his smile was wide, "You requested to see me?"

"Yes. I just wanted to know how Ms. Alcott was doing." He did. Genuinely concerned for her, he couldn't help but worry like a father. The last he had seen of her, the dark circles threatened to take over her eyes.

"She's better. I don't know how well she is sleeping but I'm planning to write to her soon." He pushed off from the desk, a lovestruck expression on his face. "Is there anything else?" George surveyed his Major General. There was still a glint of when the man was nineteen, outside the recruitment office and begging for a place in the army. Even if it was for free.

The belt that cinched around his waist held the sheath of his sword, but George could swear that there always used to be a smaller one that was strapped closer to the body. A thinner sheath for a blade that could easily be hidden behind the large sword he carried into battle.

"Your knife is gone." He commented and Lafayette flushed, hand coming up and thumb hooking under his waistband. "Son, your attachment to that dagger is more dear than some men to their wives." He said frankly. It was true. During all of basic, the Frenchman refused to give up that weary blade up for a new one, fresh out of the blacksmith's.

"I guess my attachment to Genevieve is more dear to me than that." Lafayette spoke proudly. "I'd think a pistol on her belt would not be the most… proper." Washington let out a hearty laugh and nodded. "It is only fair for her to be able to protect herself." His smile faded, mouth set into a firm line as Lafayette sighed.

"Yes, it is." He sat down. Lafayette turned to leave, thinking the conversation was over, and George swallowed to wet his dry throat. The bang of a musket as she shot the sawdust-filled dummy right through the head. The proud spark that lit up her face as she stood up for herself in front of the men.

The vigil she took the night he was injured. The fire in their eyes even when they were estranged and distanced. The numerous times Washington himself had walked into the tent looking for one of them after their reconciliation only to find them still asleep together. Nothing scandalous, just her arm thrown across his chest, his around her shoulders as they shared their warmth.

They thought George didn't know. When you're a father to a man like Lafayette, you _knew._

"Lafayette,"

" _Oui_?"

"Marry that girl one day." Again, that soft, dreamlike smile appeared on the young man's face and George Washington could remember a time when he held the same smile. That same, stupid smile. In Lafayette's mind, every single moment between them was playing in a blur. The first time they had met, their first dance together, their first night, kiss, _everything._ A smile across the campfire during supper or his teasing remarks followed by her sharp quips in response. Every stolen kiss because the world was against them. There was only so much time for love.

But to have her in his arms for the rest of his life was almost a utopia. As soon as he was able, he'd do it. So when he answered, "I intend to, George _,_ " both of them knew he wasn't lying.

 _July 30, 1781_

"It's not that I don't like parties-" Genevieve tried to convince her friends as they pulled her around Albany. They were searching for Hercules' shop and while Genevieve knew exactly where it was, the Schuyler sisters wanted to explore around.

"You don't like parties." The three sisters deadpanned as they explored the square. "Don't worry. It's more political than anything and we'll be beside you the whole time." Angelica added. "It'll be fine."

"We just need to find you a dress." Genevieve rolled her eyes as Eliza finally spotted Hercules' shop. "There he is!"

"I could've told you that when we left!" She complained. Peggy laughed freely, leading the way into the shop. The bell rung, signaling their arrival. "Besides, I have to finish my response to Lafayette."

"It'll only take a minute." Peggy promised.

It ended up taking an hour or so.

 _August 3, 1781_

 _My dearest Genevieve,_

 _I confess, my thoughts have been focused solely on you. Washington complains that my head is in the clouds but how can I not think of your grace or quick-wit?_

Genevieve weaved in between the crowd, a wine glass in hand as Angelica lead her around to meet her father's various colleagues. So far, the woman had been an image of a perfect daughter, complements spewing out of her mouth along with rightly worded sentences. She had just blocked most of the nonsense out, trying to compose a response to Lafayette's latest letter while this party went on.

 _Or the way your smile mirrors the curve of an angel's bow when Alexander or John tells a stupid joke. I even miss the strength of your arms. They would always hold me up but now, you aren't here. I only dream to feel the soft touch of your hand or your lips against mine once more._

"Angelica, please, introduce me to your companion." An older man's voice made her focus in on the conversation.

"Genevieve," she had used her full name during the event. Just in case. "This is Mr. Holloway."

"Genevieve Alcott," she curtseyed deeply, "pleased to meet you." What a lie. The man reeked of whiskey and his wife seemed to have the expression of being constantly sour. "And Mrs. Holloway, you're looking exquisite, as Angelica tells me you always are." A smile came across her face effortlessly. She hoped they couldn't tell that she was lying through her teeth.

"Thank you, dear." Genevieve nodded, sipping on her wine. "How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you."

"Angelica, dear," Mr. Holloway addressed her friend who stiffened just slightly. More pressingly, Genevieve could feel the stiletto she had strapped to the inside of her thigh. His hand fidgeted in his pocket and his wife was extremely agitated. In fact, while he arm was looped in her husband's, she looked as if she never wanted to see him again. "How is your father?"

 _But perhaps, it is for the best. We need time. I hope you're putting my dagger to good use._

Angelica's arm looped through hers and smiled. Genevieve widened her own smile, feeling the beginnings of it starting to falter. "Strong as ever. You know him."

"Of course. Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Angelica. And a pleasure meeting you, Genevieve."

"You too," she said and they were whisked away by the crowd. Angelica let go of her arm and Genevieve turned to her. "Something's up with those two."

"This is politics. Something is always up with the enemy," Angelica remarked and Genevieve arched an eyebrow as she drank her wine. "Don't drink too much. The Holloways are out for money. Johnstons for power." They turned to look at a man talking to the couple they had just spoken to. "Allies, in a way. Want to worm their way to the top."

"Johnstons?" Genevieve echoed, "I know their son."

 _I know you will take care of it._

"Really?"

"I was… I knew him more than just an acquaintance." The brunette explained and Angelica hummed. "I would say courted but it's such a tight term. I didn't know he was desperate."

"Not him, just his parents. Otherwise, why else would they let you in his sights?"

"How do you mean?"

"If you're friends with us, you have connections." Angelica muttered under her breath and Genevieve sighed.

"Of course. Do you think he tried to be boring, though?" At that, there was a chuckle.

 _You're a smart woman._

"No. It was just how he was raised." Eliza and Peggy were making their way towards them. "God, I love yet hate politics." There was a spark in her eyes when Angelica talked about the game of bluffs. "It's like war, every step needing to be cautious. A terribly intricate game." And at that, Genevieve got an idea. Stepping up beside the oldest Schuyler, she sent a coy smile her way as a few of the politicians' sons walked past. Waving her fingers at them in a faux-shy way, Genevieve leaned in beside Angelica, giving the impression that she was talking about them.

 _And I know you'll be fine what with the combined forces of the Schuyler sisters, Hercules, Oliver and your family, as well as your cleverness and your instinct to persevere._

The boys nudged each other but the four of them weren't paying attention. "Angelica, do you want to teach me how to play?" Eliza and Peggy raised their eyebrows and shared dubious looks as Angelica smirked, wrapping an arm around Genevieve and pulling her into the crowd.

 _But that doesn't stop me from missing you more and more each day. I love you,_ mon ange. _You are truly the light at the end of this dark tunnel._

The rest of the night was wasted away as Angelica sweet-talked away the sons of politicians and Genevieve listened intently, picking up the subtle movements and body language the Schuyler radiated. A gentle pat on the arm, a tilt of the head as she asked for more wine.

 _I love you, Gen._ _It_ is _as simple as that._ _And as you said yourself with your love for me, I can say the same for you. The one I love most is you. No matter what, never doubt that. I will come back to you, even if I have to drag myself through hell._

Genevieve learnt quickly, storing the information in her head as she asked one of the son's friends for another drink. Leading him away, all she could think of was Lafayette. The dagger pressed against her thigh as he poured the dark liquid into her glass. The man seemed non-threatening but she couldn't help the panic building up in her throat. Swallowing a knot, she tried to keep a cool head.

Perhaps he would've been proud had he seen her. She listened as he began to speak, filtering out whatever he was saying. Every unimportant word went in through one ear and out another but when she caught an interesting pause in his speech, she looked up at him. "Something wrong?" She asked innocently.

"Nothing," he smiled as did she. Immediately he changed the subject from the Native Americans to his father's current business managing the trade. Keeping that in mind, she went along with it but couldn't help but watch inconspicuously over his shoulder as Philip Schuyler shook hands with her companion's father. Something didn't sit right.

 _You are worth it._

 _Adieu,_ mon amour _. Indulge in the sweet gifts domesticality can give you until I can come home,_

 _Lafayette; July 27, 1781_

 **A/N: Hey, there! So, I've been super busy and I only just got this done like last night and posting today. Anyway, this is a sweeter chapter yet kinda plot-related. I hoped you liked the letter and shizzam and we're going to see more of the Schuyler sisters! Yay! Anyway, I've made a tumblr if any of you want to read extras of any of my fics. It's called whistlingwillows. I hope you enjoy that :)**

 **On that note, I've started a college AU fic for Adrienne and Lafayette. Adrienne is Lafayette's actual wife in history. There are 2 chapters up and it'd mean the world if you checked it out too!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Yeah, I'm trying to stick as close to the musical as possible while keeping it relatively historically kinda accurate? Alexander should be sent home in the next, if not the one after, chapter. Thank you for reviewing!**

 **Willow: OH, LORD THAT IS LIKE THE BEST COMPLIMENT? I loVEd J.K Rowling when I was little and to be said to write like her is such a huge compliment? Like, how do I thank you! I'm so happy you enjoyed my little notes at the end because I think they add more depth and oh my gosh I'm so happy. When I got that review, it literally made my day. (P.S, your spelling was just fine :) )**

 **BriCat03: Yeah, Philip is just, blargh. I love writing him though because I like roasting people.**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: EYEYEY YOU ARE FANTASTIC ALSO! I am so happy that you loved the chapter and ELIZA IS PREGGO SHE IS PREGGO!**

 *** _Other little golden embellishments decorated across his lapels and around the cuffs were used along with the golden epaulets._ I'm trying to describe the tailcoat Lafayette wears in the Battle of Yorktown song. It's my favorite jacket in the play because it's just so fancy while everyone else is the same. I mean, even George has the same thing except a blue sash and the golden epaulets. Lafayette gotta be extra LOL**


	14. Letters

**A/N: I'M ALIVE, I SWEAR.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14: Letters**

 _August 7, 1781_

The Alcott and Schuyler families were in the drawing room. Genevieve was rubbing Eliza's slight bump with a fond smile while Ettie asked a million questions. Bennett was with Philip and her father while the Schuyler sisters all chatted with Genevieve.

"Is he giving you any trouble?" Peggy asked curiously, grinning from ear to ear as Eliza snorted.

"When does he not?" The woman replied when there was a loud scream. Genevieve looked up sharply, standing first along with Philip Schuyler. Running to the window, she watched as a crowd of people forced themselves through the gates.

"Sir, who-"

"Damn Indians," Schuyler cursed, turning to the families.

"Father, what's wrong?" Eliza asked, hand resting on her slight bulge on instinct. Thinking quick, Genevieve helped her father up and grabbed her siblings.

"Get upstairs. All of you, now!" She barked, helping Catherine Van Rensselaer up and towards the staircase. Eliza, Peggy and Angelica brought up the rear, making sure their parents got through first. In their panic, they stormed up the stairs. Genevieve's figure tensed as they continued to run up the path to the mansion. "Mr. Schuyler, go. I'll be right behind you." Gently nudging him towards the stairs, she glanced uneasily at the door.

As they slowly went up the grand staircase, she heard the banging of the locked door. They made it up just as they burst in. Pushing them out of sight, Genevieve's breath hitched as they split up. Tugging her skirts out of view, she took a few bated breaths. When she was sure they were gone, they snuck towards Eliza's room. "Where are you going?" Schuyler asked sharply as she continued to her room.

"Getting a pistol," she murmured and he nodded. "Warn them and make sure they know it'll be me." Stealthily walking to her room, she rummaged through her bag and found her pistol between her belt and her Continental Army jacket. Taking it, she clenched her fists, index finger tickling the trigger. Walking back to the room, she slipped inside, holding the gun up and softly letting the door click shut.

Everyone in the room was terrified. She steeled her nerves as Peggy took one of her sister's heels and wielded it like a sword. Standing beside Genevieve, Peggy's eyes trained on the door.

It was absolutely silent as the Native Americans searched the house. They could hear the shouts in a foreign language below them when Catherine gasped, eyes full of tears.

"What's wrong, dearest?" Philip asked urgently from where he crouched beside his wife. Eliza and Angelica shared panicked looks as they hugged each other at the end of the bed. "Catherine,"

"The baby is still done there," she whispered and there was a deathly quiet.

"I'll get her," Peggy volunteered, putting down the heel. "I'm the smallest, they won't hear me."

"Peggy, no!" Catherine shushed her daughter but the young sister shook her head. "You'll be killed."

"They won't find me. I promise, Mother," and with that, the door was open a sliver and Peggy was gone. Eliza nearly screamed but Angelica clamped a hand over her mouth. Genevieve swallowed a knot in her throat and her gaze met Schuyler's.

"Keep them safe."

"Where do you think you're going?" Angelica interrogated and Genevieve tested her stare with an equally pointed glare.

"Covering your sister's back." she growled. William hugged his younger children tightly but Bennett broke free. Their youngest sister burrowed into their father as he grabbed Genevieve's hand.

"Let me go with you."

"You barely know how to fire a gun, Bennett." She hissed, breaking free of his grip. "You may be seventeen but you aren't a soldier. I am," cupping his face, she forced a smile. "I'll be okay." It had been a long while since she had fired this gun. They didn't need to know that.

"Stay safe," he breathed. Nodding, she stroked his cheek with her thumb before standing.

Slipping out, she reached her skirt and wrapped a hand around the grip of his dagger, finger rubbing over the initials. Taking it out carefully, she had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Waiting near the steps, she took momentary peeks around the corner. "Come on, Peggy, come on," she whispered to herself when there was a slight patter of steps. Peggy ran into view, a baby cradled in her arms and she grinned.

"Where do you think you're going?" A male voice asked and Peggy froze. Turning around, the woman watched as a few Native Americans corner her. Her yellow skirts swished as she looked around, panic on her features.

"What do you want?" Peggy didn't sound scared, only defiant. "I have a baby in my arms, if you haven't noticed."

"We just need to know where Philip Schuyler is. Tell us and maybe your head will still be on your body by the end of the day." Another threatened her with an axe and Genevieve raised the pistol, aiming for the head. If one of them touched Peggy or the baby, a head would be blown off.

"Philip Schuyler?" She tried to act innocent but one of them jabbed a spear end towards her. Flinching away, Peggy brought the infant closer to her.

"We know he lives here."

"But he isn't here," Peggy snapped back coldly. "He left as soon as he caught wind of your approach - in fact, he should be here any moment with reinforcements." The intruders looked at each other, judging to her bluff. Genevieve shifted the gun in her hands. _Don't you dare move,_ she ordered in her mind as the man she aimed at shook his head, trying to shake his doubts. Genevieve took a deep breath, steadying her hand. "You can stay - test my bluff - and be captured or you can leave, free."

There were a few moments, the dialect foreign to her before the weapons were lowered. "You are lucky, Schuyler,"

"Or we're smart," she growled as a loud call rang through the house. Peggy began to leave as men congregated at the base of the staircase. They watched as the curly-haired woman ascend the stairs, safe. Genevieve still kept her gun up, still out of sight when one of them pulled their arm back, tomahawk clasped firmly between his fingers.

He threw it with such force, the wind whistled in her ears. Peggy ran up the stairs quicker and it became embedded in the wall, cutting through the bannister that hung from the rails. Peggy laughed, almost mockingly as she reached the top of the steps. Another man held his spear up, even as the Natives began to retreat. Stepping out of her spot, Genevieve pointed the gun at the one man standing. His friends stood at the door, uncertain as he smirked.

"A woman holding a gun. A joke," he scoffed and she aimed slightly to his right where the parasol holder was. Sending a half-glance to Peggy in a way of telling her to cover the baby's ears, she hooked a finger on the trigger. Firing the gun, she felt it rattle in her ears as the bullet whizzed right past him. From her height, if she had aimed just a few centimeters to the left, it would've hit him right in the head and he knew it.

"A funny one indeed," Genevieve growled and he backed away, glancing uneasily at the hole in the metal. "Get _out._ " And they did, running for their lives and hoping that she wouldn't shoot them in the back. Peggy breathed out and ran towards Eliza's room as Genevieve picked up the stiletto, going down the steps to where the handle stuck out from the wall. Sliding the blade flat against her thigh again, she lowered her skirts.

"Peggy, Catherine!" The Schuylers yelled. Peggy gave her little baby sister to her mother before embracing her older ones. The family was flooded with relief.

"We heard a gunshot," Bennett said and Genevieve turned around, tossing her head in the direction of the parasol holder. "Woah, you hit that?"

"Instead of someone's head, yes." She snorted, turning back to the tomahawk and pulling it out. Stretching her fingers over the grip, she brought it to Philip Schuyler who held his youngest daughter to his chest. "The thing that shows your daughter's bravery. Keep it as a badge of honor."

"We will," he said proudly, watching as Bennett ran a hand over the dented metal. "Thank you,"

"Thank your daughter." She said as she descended the steps. Ettie helped their father down before launching into her sister's body. "I'm fine, Ettie."

"That was - I thought we were going to die. And you go through that everyday?" Genevieve smiled, running a hand through her sister's blonde hair. "Don't you get terrified?" Crouching down in front of her, she embraced the blonde tightly. The brunette thought of Lafayette, his musky scent and warmth. The spark in his eyes as he spoke to her. Patting her sister, she closed her eyes and hugged the girl even tighter.

"Yes," she acknowledged softly.

"What would've happened if I lost you?"

"You would've been fine," she murmured, eyes opening before pulling back and wiping away any tears. Looking at her brother, Genevieve pulled him down into the hug too. He laughed shakily, wrapping an arm around her. Kissing Ettie's forehead, she looked up at her father.

"What would I have done if I lost you?" Her father repeated his daughter's question, joints aching as he joined them on the floor. "Every day you're not with us, I hope that I won't see a soldier on my door."

"You'd all have been fine. Because there are parts of me that live on. In you, in Lafayette, in everything I love." She looked into her father's wet eyes, "I may look the most like Mother but," she stroked Bennett's chin, "he has her warmth. Ettie," Genevieve tapped her younger sister's nose, "she has her smile."

"But-"

"Father,"* she hugged them all tightly again, "it'll be fine. Parts of her live on, you know you can move on."**

"I love you," he murmured and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Looking into her siblings' faces, she could only see how mature, how much they've grown up. It was bittersweet - she could remember when they were just barely grown, running in the fields of their school.

"And I love you. All of you." Hugging them again, she sighed, "I always will."

 _August 16, 1781_

 _Dear Genevieve,_

 _I hope you are doing well. It seems so very like_ mademoiselle _Peggy to laugh at the fact that an axe was thrown at her head._

 _Anyway, as you have requested in your last letter, I will update you on our current plans._ Comte de _Grasse should be reaching Chesapeake Bay in a short amount of time. Cornwallis made a mistake making Yorktown his base. We will cut them off at sea, bombard them until they are too weak and seize their redoubts. It's a sure victory when we overpower them._

 _I only wish you would be here to watch the British retreat. This has been your fight from the very beginning and I can't believe that you aren't here to see its end. I want you to stay safe but I know it's useless to tell you to. Your knack for disobedience is one of the reasons I am so deeply in love with you._

 _There are many reasons - I cannot possibly list them all. Please, do not ask me. But up with your smile and sharp tongue is the fire inside you that burns brighter than the fire around you._

 _There is nothing that can tear you down. Even from this, I know you will heal. We may have had doubts, love, but there are none now. We are both stronger than this. Our love is stronger than this._

 _That was incredibly romantic yet still so disgusting but it is true. Even now, I want to hold you and kiss you. I hope you feel the same way._

 _I am on my wit's end. The people are relying on me more than ever to correspond with Grasse and help plan our next moves. Rochambeau can only do so much with an army our size. Your letters are the only moments of peace I can get._

 _Please, respond soon,_ ma moitié,***

 _Lafayette; August 11, 1781_

 _August 26, 1781_

 _My love,_

 _I'm so sorry this letter is so late in response. Between helping my father and Ollie run the tavern, and the Schuylers dragging me from one political party to the next, I fear that my schedule is rather tight. Today is the one day I have to write to you and I've constructed what I wanted to say whilst away._

 _First off, that is an ingenious move. A victory is sure if Grasse defeats any reinforcements coming his way and Cornwallis cannot escape. I can only dream of how long it took to formulate such a plan. With a stroke of luck, you have snagged the prize. But, I guess, we should not be too cocky. The British may find a way through your offense and the army will have another Lee if we're not careful._

 _Secondly, how are Alexander and John doing? I haven't heard from them recently and neither have the Schuylers - are they alright? I miss them, even if they are idiots. Besides, Eliza needs to see Alexander - she has very important news. I hope her letter had been received and that General Washington takes the right directive in sending him home._

 _Or, he could wait until Alexander does something stupid. Which should be quite soon, really._

 _I kid._

 _Anyway, I shall dedicate this portion of my letter to you. Lafayette, of course I feel the same way as you. Despite my hesitancies, I long for the warmth of your embrace or the spark in your eyes when you speak. I can only hold on to your voice for so long. I wish I could be there for you as you are always for me, but just know that if I could, I'd try to take the edge off reality. Perhaps create a world in our mind where it was a perfect world before the harshness of reality erased it._

 _Your blade is what has given me courage to even step into the world of politics. I always have it close to me and it allows me to believe that you are close by my side. I have something for you too. I hope when you see it, you'll understand the meaning of it. And if not, just remember the wedding night in which we bared ourselves at our most vulnerable and confessed the love we shared._

 _Adieu with the sweetest of love,_

 _Genevieve; August 20, 1781_

Lafayette put down the letter after re-reading it at least three times and sighed. Taking the package it had been tied to, he slowly unwrapped it. Alexander was at their desk, writing furiously to his wife as John scratched down ideas to talk about in his next letter to Peggy on his cot. "What do you have there?" Alexander inquired, looking up briefly and dipping his quill into the ink. Lafayette shrugged, looking at her empty bed.

"Something from Genevieve," the _marquis_ said, taking out the worn shirt. He furrowed his brow, taking it out and holding it up. Taking off the shirt he wore, he pulled his head through the one she gave him and immediately recognized her scent. Bringing the neck of the shirt to his nose, he realized it smelt so powerfully of wind and sweet blossoms that he could imagine that she was here.

The wedding night. The night they had spent to themselves, indulging in time like they had an infinite life with each other. It was the shirt she wore to sleep and the shirt she wore when he slammed the door and left.

A testament to how far they've come.

His heart ached and his lungs were weak as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. His eyes slid close, just inhaling her scent. The dark-eyed man could imagine her wearing it so often the days before she sent it.

"Lafayette?"

"It is her shirt. Mine," he corrected, "but hers. I gave it to her."

"Ah. Is that why you're breathing it in like air?" John teased and Lafayette smirked.

"When you love someone, John, you take anything you can get. You will know this eventually when you ask _mademoiselle_ Peggy for her hand. Continue writing," he added loftily when John groaned. Lying down on his cot, Lafayette closed his eyes and tried to hold on to the feel of her arm strewn across his chest or the smile against his collarbone as they slept. The wind and blossoms invade his sense of smell and he sighed, content and at ease for once.

Then it was broken by the call of supper. Getting up, he just smiled stupidly to himself as Alexander finished up his letter and lead the way out of the tent.

 _September 5, 1781_

Genevieve pushed herself up, sweat and dust covering her brow as she swung her arms in wide circles. The push-ups she had been doing burned her muscles that had been lax with disuse. Ever since the Natives had tried to capture Schuyler, she had re-trained herself back into her prime all the while attending parties, helping around the tavern and running errands for Eliza as she became increasingly pregnant.

No wonder she was tired all the time.

But it was a good tired. A tired that came from being productive and a tired that made her happy. Wiping at her face with a towel, she sighed as the fall wind began to sweep through the grounds. A servant walked up to her and she raised her head, smiling. "Ms. Alcott, are you busy?"

"No, not at all." The young boy blushed, "What do you need?" He held out a letter and she took it, raising an eyebrow when she saw it.

"Ms. Eliza asked me to deliver this to you. She's in her room, resting before supper if you'd like to talk to her." He offered and Genevieve shook her head.

"I'll find her. Thank you, Todd." She said and he bowed before turning around and walking away, ears red. Deciding to walk down to the gardens which were a short ways away from the training grounds, she strolled through the flowers before sitting down on a bench. Looking up at the mansion, she saw the curtains for the library drawn closed.

Opening the envelope and unfolding the letter, she immediately saw Lafayette's elegant scrawl in a short note.

 _Dearest Genevieve,_

 _To the point. Alexander has done something incredibly stupid. Laurens and him had challenged Lee to a duel and Laurens ended up shooting the man in the side. Of course, it was Alexander's idea first. I need to write this quickly as I'm being called to a Council soon but he's being sent home. He should arrive on the 10th at the latest. I think you would agree with me in saying that he needs time off._

 _In your last letter, you stated that_ madame _Hamilton had written to the General bearing important news. I hope that is one of the reasons George has sent our friend home. He needs to see his wife before he gets expelled for his brashness._

 _And I love what you have sent me. I wear it all the time and it seems even when we're far apart, we're still by each other's side. If that made any sense. I do not know - this language can be quite confusing at times._

 _Adieu,_ ma belle _,_

 _Lafayette; August 27_

 _September 11, 1781_

Genevieve leafed through an ancient book, bored out of her mind. Alexander had arrived the day before, as Lafayette predicted, and currently, the Hamiltons were strolling through the gardens. Going to the windows, she pulled back the curtains and tied them, letting the weak sunlight stream through before looking out into the gardens. Eliza was with her husband as he placed his hands on her rounded abdomen.

The house was so quiet, Peggy tutoring Ettie somewhere else in the house while Bennett was out with a girl he had been talking about for days. Schuyler and his wife were in the den while her father was in the kitchen.

"I wrote to the General a month ago."

"No-"

"I begged him to send you home." Eliza seemed to be saying. The brunette had heard her rehearse what she was going to say to her husband the moment she learned that he was returning home. Genevieve grinned, remember the nights Eliza had spent pacing back and forth in her room as she tried to think of what to say to her idiot of a husband.

"You should've told me."

"I'm not sorry," the woman said defiantly and Alexander looked at her. Eliza gazed at her husband with a mixture of pride and love. "I knew you'd fight until the war was won,"

"The war's not done!"

Her gaze was stern, "but you deserve a chance to meet your son."

Feeling like she was intruding, Genevieve turned away from the sun and looked at the dusty pages of the book she held. Returning it back to the shelf, she felt a memory tug at her conscious and she remembered that she was in this position before - in Lafayette's apartment as she held Ollie's daughter - when he received news of Rochambeau's arrival. Closing her eyes, she sighed.

Her mind imagined his hands on her shoulders and if she just turned her head slightly to the right, he would press a kiss to her cheek before hugging her tightly around her waist. And she'd turn around in the circle of his arms, pepper his face with gentle kisses before he caught her jaw and fit their mouths together in a deep kiss.

And he'd try and say something and she'd shut him up with another kiss.

Opening her eyes reluctantly when the door opened, she pulled away from the bookcase. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Ollie holding his daughter. "Hey."

"Ollie," turning around, she smiled and clasped her hands in front of her, "Why - who's running the tavern?"

"I helped your father back and he's showing Lottie the ropes," he said, referring to his wife. "But look who I brought,"

"I noticed her quite clearly," she quipped, going over to pick up Theresa from her father's arms. The baby clapped when she came closer, trying to jump out of her father's arms. "Hello, young lady. Isn't this a pretty dress?" Resting the baby in her arms, she smiled down at her soft features. Theresa cooed, grabbing a lock of hair playfully.

"Mr. Mulligan made it," Ollie informed and Genevieve smiled. Carrying the baby to the window, she saw now that Eliza and Alexander were talking quietly, his hand never leaving her abdomen. Looking into Theresa's chubby face, she nearly started when she felt a warm sensation that was so alike to Lafayette's hand rest on her own navel. Whipping around, she only saw Ollie as he looked at the shelves.

"Ollie?" She rasped and he looked at her strangely. Shaking herself, she smiled and joined him. He dismissed her weirdness in favor of looking at the rows and rows of books.

"These are a lot of books."

"Who has the time to read it all?" She agreed, transferring his daughter back into his arms. Sighing, she ran a hand over the scar on her arm. Seeing his wedding band, she felt her interest pique. "What's it like - being married to the woman you love?" He beamed with the warmth of the sun.

"Like the loveliest feeling in the world. And when you have a child," he looked at her, eyes glinting with joy before looking at his sweet daughter, "you know what true fulfillment is. Why?" Blushing, she looked away, fingers running over old spines. "Genny?" Looking sheepishly at her friend, she shrugged.

"I'm in love with him," she confessed as if he didn't already know, "but I never knew I wanted to marry him - I never knew we'd make it this far."

"Love has a funny way, sometimes," he remarked, "it shows up at the strangest of times with the power to crush you or give you hope. Genny," he made her look at him, "the way you love him... it's a hopeful one. Don't lose it." Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a life without Lafayette and only ended up imagining them in their own house - America or France, she didn't know - as a young boy ran around the house, his long hair in a ponytail and his features so alike to his father. A life with him. That's what was waiting for her after the war.

"I won't," she promised and it held true for the rest of her life.

 **A/N: DECEASED AFTER THIS CHAPTER. Honestly, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this up. Life has been super hectic, including personal crap that I've had to go through but the point is, this is up. I wrote the first 3/4 of it almost a week ago and I only finished this today. I hope you enjoy, either way.**

 **Thank you everyone for waiting patiently, reviewing, favoriting and following this story.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **BriCat03: Chillll my duudeee. I updated and I'm so happy you think this is worth re-reading! :) But, wdym relinking old plot points?**

 **PaintingMusic14: That's so sweet! Thank you!**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: OOOO! ANOTHER COMPLIMENT? I cannot handle it, lol. Thank you so much! I really wanna add more Laf and Washington moments but they're gonna be few and far in between. It's okay, though, I added John/Laf/Alex conversation instead! Thank you for reading!**

 *** " _Father,"_ Normally she uses Papa. This is to show how serious she is.**

 **** " _Parts of her live on, you know you can move on._ " Inspiration from Dear Theodosia (Reprise) because it's one of my absolute faves.**

 ** _*** Please, respond soon,_ ma moitié,** **The French here translates to 'my better half' or 'my other half' because cute!**


	15. Proposal

**Chapter 15: Proposal**

 _September 20, 1781_

"Can you just be polite for more than ten minutes of your life?" Peggy asked pointedly, thinking it'd be suffice to get their father to back down. Philip Schuyler snorted as Alexander sent them a wary glance from where he adjusted his pack on the horse.

"Polite? Why be polite when I can be honest? Washington's calling Hamilton back so soon and I don't like it. That was barely a punishment."

"There's a very fine line between being honest and being rude." Eliza commented quietly. Alexander kissed his wife chastely before returning to his task. "Be safe, Alexander,"

Genevieve hugged Angelica tightly before hugging her father. Her brother and sister held onto her tightly and she smiled. "I'll see you soon," she whispered and Bennett looked up at her.

"Promise?"

"You aren't a little kid anymore, Ben," she murmured and he nodded, drawing away. "You're grown up, the both of you." Ettie still held onto her jacket and Genevieve pulled her back by the shoulders. Tears shone in her eyes and Genevieve swallowed. "You can move on. Get married, start a family."

"And will you?" Ettie challenged and for once, Genevieve nodded easily, a wide smile on her face.

"Of course,"

"Lafayette will become my brother?" The blonde asked excitedly and Genevieve laughed.

"Will he teach me how to fight?" Bennett asked excitedly and she grinned, looking at her father. He looked wistful yet his eyes were lit up with happiness.

"You ask him, but I'm sure he'll say yes." She teased and he puffed out his chest. He was almost taller than her now and she felt a flicker of nostalgia. Her siblings pulled away to allow their father to talk to his oldest in private. The two walked over to Alexander who was speaking energetically to Eliza's rounded abdomen.

"It was only yesterday when I held you in my arms," he said quietly and she felt her smile shrink. "Lafayette is a good man - he makes you happy. You have my blessing, always,"

"Thank you, Papa," she whispered back and he brought her into another hug. "Thank you," she breathed and he chuckled against her. "There's the lake in a nearby park. Go there for me. We don't spend enough time there."

"I will," he promised, sending her a strange look. It had been a long time since she had requested to go the lake. The last time was when her mother was still alive.

"Under the arching willow, Papa," she murmured and his eyes lit up with recognition.

"Where your mother and I met," he realized and she nodded.

"I want you to be happy even when I'm not here. Take Bennett and Ettie, perhaps the Schuylers. It'd be a nice way to spend the day."

"It would," he agreed. Châtain nickered and Genevieve looked over her shoulder. "I guess that's your signal to leave." Drawing back, she nodded. "I love you, Genny."

"I love you, too, Papa." Turning to the Schuylers, she hugged Peggy tightly. "See you, Peggy," she mumbled and the younger Schuyler chuckled.

"If you see John, tell him I want a response soon." The woman ordered, jabbing a finger into her chest and Genevieve promised. "Stay safe," Mounting her horse, the brunette made sure her hat was still on as Eliza sent her a smile.

"Come home soon, you two," Angelica murmured and they nodded. Tugging at the reins, the two soldiers turned to head towards the gates.

"You wrote to Washington, right?" Genevieve asked and Alexander nodded. "Then we should get moving. He'll be expecting us."

 _September 25, 1781_

"Major General Lafayette?" Lafayette looked up, exhausted from the fire. He had a terrible night - not going to bed until four in the morning. Even then, sleep evaded him.

" _Oui?_ "

"General Washington requests to meet you at the outpost." The boy continued and the _marquis_ looked tiredly over at John who had an as equally long night. "He says to be there as soon as possible."

"Why, in God's name, at this hour?" John muttered as Lafayette stood, knees cracking. Rolling his shoulders back, he saw that his horse was already being prepared. The boy shrugged, clearly nervous as to what the sour-faced Frenchman would say.

"It must be due to something with Grasse." Lafayette said and bid farewell to John. He mounted his horse and rode for the outpost, past the guards. The autumn air bit at his face and he rubbed at his eyes, bones aching from his lack of rest. When he reached the outpost, he was saluted by the guards there and dismounted, brushing off his pants and walking over to where Washington stood. _Not much activity,_ he mused. _Then again, the sun has only just risen._

Tapping Washington on the shoulder, he was surprised when there was a sly glint in his eye. He lowered his scope and Lafayette raised his eyebrows. "It's good to see you, son,"

"I'm afraid I cannot say the same. Sir, do you know how much sleep I got last night? Or the night before?" He asked, irritated. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he ignored Washington's chuckle and glared at him. "What do you need me for?"

"I don't need you, but if you don't want to see who's arriving, that's fine." Washington remarked and Lafayette flushed, reaching for the scope. When the General moved it away, he scowled. "Fix your attitude, son."

"I would if you stopped playing me like a toy," he grumbled. He heard the pounding of horse hooves and looked up when he saw two figures atop horses make their way to the outpost. "Alexander's returning?"

"Yes," was all his father figure said. There was no indication that he knew nor that he was surprised another figure accompanied him. Now that he was closer, he could make out Alexander's dark hair but the companion wore a hat.

"Sir-"

"Just wait."

"Hamilton returns!" Cheers went around the drowsy camp as the two finally breached through. Washington lead Lafayette over as the two dismounted and his interest piqued when the stranger with the hat wrapped a long-fingered hand around the grip of their knife. It was short, from what he could tell in the sheath, and their finger ran over something along the edge of the handle.

The stranger took off their hat, brown hair spilling down their back. They placed the hat in their horse's saddle pack and saluted George Washington. The General saluted back and when Lafayette's eyes found bright green ones, he felt completely alive.

"Genevieve!" He screamed and she laughed, her face lighting up like the sun as he opened his arms. She ran past George Washington who shook his head in amusement, and into him, arms wrapping around him as he swung her around tightly. Tears sprung in his eyes as Alexander shook Washington's hand. She kissed his cheek as he settled her down on the ground. Pulling back, he smiled at her from ear to ear. "Wait… Genevieve? _Pourquoi es-tu ici? Je pensais que vous étiez à la maison! Qui vous laisse partir? Était-ce Peggy? Je pari que c'était Peggy."*_ His confused tone made her giggle and she hugged him again.

"No, it wasn't Peggy," she said with a roll of her eyes after he quickly translated his words. He sighed, indulging in her strong embrace that brought fire to his heart. "Yes, it partly was." She amended and he sighed again, this time, more dramatically.

"You sisters," he shook his head and she rolled her eyes.

"Shut up," she murmured and brought him down for a deep kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist and he sighed against her lips. It was like home was in the circle of his arms again as she pulled back to rest their foreheads against each other. "I've missed you,"

"I have missed you more," he murmured and she laughed. "God, you don't know how much," he added and she hugged him, cheek resting above his heartbeat. His eyes closed, nose brushing her hair. "I love you," he didn't realize he was crying until then.

"I love you," everything was muffled except her words and she raised her head, cold hand brushing away hot tears before pressing a soft, tender kiss against his lips again.

.

"Thank you for letting me return, sir." Genevieve said as soon as she came into the tent. George Washington stood at his full height, towering over her as he turned towards her.

"You deserve to be here," the man replied, "how are you?"

"Better." He nodded, "I sleep well and I've regained most of my strength back." His eyes flickered down to her belt and she thought she saw a flicker of surprise. He looked down at the map on his desk, bracing himself against the wood and the brunette stood, waiting.

"So he did give you that dagger." He seemed to say, "That boy really loves you then."

"Sir?"

"His only piece of security - the one thing he has brought with him all these years - and now you wield it." A quirk at the corner of the General's lips had Genevieve confused, "I'm saying that Lafayette is indeed in love with you."

"Okay…" she trailed off. This is not what she was expecting. Unsure of what to say, she confessed, "I'm in love with him. If there's something you need to say-"

"He wants to marry you." Chuckling nervously, she rubbed the back of her neck. "Boy told me himself."

"Then it's good that I want to marry him as well." She returned boldly. A smile tugged at her and she added, "I didn't think you were one to play cupid, sir."

"I'm not." He agreed, rubbing his face and looking back up at her. "An exception has been made for you. It's a combination of my fondness for the both of you, and a clear sign of how old I'm getting." The green-eyed woman managed a nervous laugh at the jibe. "Don't fuck it up with him," _or I'll tear you apart._ The words went unsaid came across loud and clear anyway.

"I won't, sir," she promised and he gave her a firm nod. Jerking his head towards the entrance, she bowed. "Thank you, sir," it was almost like she was given his blessing, "for everything." Another nod and she exited the tent, face heating up.

Meeting the parent was so not on her agenda and yet it happened anyway. It was a good thing she passed and earned the blessing anyhow. One less thing to worry about then.

 _September 27, 1781_

"This might be our last dinner together." John remarked quietly as they surrounded the campfire. They were separated from the main army - many kept their distance when they realized Genevieve had returned and she was just fine with that. Lafayette's arm stiffened around Genevieve's shoulders and the brunette's fingers became rigid around the cup of mead.

" _Oui,_ " Lafayette agreed uneasily. "But, we will make it a memorable one."

"I guess so," Alexander murmured. "And at least we'll all have a friend with us. Genevieve, Lafayette," they looked at the solemn man, "Give them hell on your side."

"We will," the two promised and looked at each other. So much was said in a mere few seconds and she rested her head on his shoulder. "Be careful, Laurens, Hamilton," Lafayette added cheekily.

"What do you mean?" The freckled man sniffed in faux offence. Alexander cocked an eyebrow.

"You haven't written your letter to _mademoiselle_ Peggy yet," John's smile faded, "and _you,"_ he pointed at Alexander, "you have a pregnant wife. You two have a talent for brash and reckless courage. I do not know if I fear that more or the Schuyler sisters - they are terrifying."

"The Schuyler sisters are frightening when provoked." Genevieve agreed, raising her head. "I'm sure you two already know that when I first went home," to see her talk about what happened so tactlessly made them all pause, sharing glances. Her eyes scanned them, waiting for a response before adding, "and I'm sure their vocal chords will be hoarse if you two do not write to them soon." The tenseness melted away albeit awkwardly.

"Near-death experiences come with the job." John proclaimed to fill in the quiet.

"Like in Monmouth? Your horse shot out from under you and you go flying." Alexander snorted and he smacked him.

"It was not his fault that he was not killed or wounded, he did everything that was necessary to procure one or the other."** Lafayette remarked. John rolled his eyes, leaning forward with a smirk.

"And who was it that stumbled into camp dripping wet making us all think you returned from the dead? Hamilton, was it you or am I mistaken?" He quipped and said man took a swig from his cup.

"At least I have the courage to face Philip Schuyler on the subject of his daughter."

"That's a low blow,"

"Children," Lafayette chided and they both scowled at the lofty tone he held. "No need to fight."

"They do act rather childishly." Genevieve supported and the two let out sounds of indignation. "It's charming, in a way. Eliza is certainly smitten."

"Don't bring my wife into this!"

"Then don't act like it'll be just another battle. There might not be another chance to write to Peggy or Eliza or anyone we love." Everyone was quiet as she continued, "This is the end - we all know it." Suddenly, a thought popped into the green-eyed woman's mind and she raised her cup. "And it only seems fitting to end this the way it started, right?"

"Right," John murmured and Alexander, confused raised his glass. If only Hercules was here - the stocky man would already be leading the speech but instead, it fell onto Genevieve to do so.

"Raise a glass to freedom," she recited, "something they can never take a way - no matter what they tell you." Smiling nostalgically, Alexander nodded.

"Raise a glass to the four of us," his eyes reached every single one of them, "Tomorrow they'll be more of us." _More of us who are dead or more of us who will join our cause?_ She asked herself numbly. Lafayette pressed a kiss to her temple and she tried to smile. Fear swelled in her throat as she swallowed the alcoholic drink. "Telling the story of tonight."

"Raise a glass to freedom," John tipped the drink back and they all chorused it back quietly. For some reason, the knot of fear and dread kept building up in her throat. Even as she looked at Lafayette, Genevieve could barely breathe.

"We will be fine," he murmured, almost to assure himself. "Don't think about it."

"I'm trying," she promised and he nodded. "I'm just… _terrified._ "

"We all are." His eyes met the stars and they reflected back down on him. In her eyes, they seemed to glitter coldly down on the four of them as John asked if anyone wanted a refill. Letting the lieutenant colonel take her cup, she watched as Alexander followed his best friend. They were left alone.

"But if we survive?" She prompted finally and he managed the smallest of smiles. "If we survive this _mess_ of a war?" His palm cupped her cheek, thumb flitting across her cheekbone.

"Then…" he swallowed, "then I will go back to Albany with you."

"Then?" She prompted and even in the faint fire light, she could see the beginnings of a blush. He was a nervous wreck. Taking his hand in hers, she held them tightly. "Lafayette, you already have my father's blessing." The brunette murmured and he looked up at her, shocked. "He adores you."

"How - I - where - who told you?" He stumbled and she laughed, kissing his cheek. "I meant for it to be when I returned… but-"

"And if you didn't return at all?" She challenged, "I just knew," no point in snitching on Washington, as much as she wanted to, "and if you'd… if you'll have me, I'd like to be your wife." Her voice was quiet but it was amplified in his ears. After this war… they were getting married. _Is this even reality?_ He thought dazedly. "So… is that a yes?" And he scooped her up in his arms, standing up and spinning her around. She yelped, arms around his neck as she held on.

"Of course it is, you silly woman," he laughed and settled her down again just so he could kiss her. Everything was quiet except the crack of the fire and she smiled into their kiss. The embrace was warm and felt exactly what home should feel like as Lafayette brushed his lips against her forehead.

When Alexander and John returned, they shared knowing glances and purposely stayed out late with the other men, sharing tales of their past battles. Lafayette and Genevieve were in their own world and the two knew that if they went close to the _marquis'_ tent, they would hear sounds they'd rather not hear - however muffled they were. So, instead, they drowned it out with loud drinking songs and cheers around the main camp with their fellow patriots.

And at dawn, everyone would part, the French and Americans saying their farewells as they tried to snag their final victory.

 _September 30, 1781_

 _Let me tell you what I wish I'd know when I was young and dreamed of glory: you have no control_

Genevieve woke at the crack of dawn, Lafayette beside her. A new day, another fight. Nudging him awake, she exited the tent after pulling on her jacket and saw Rochambeau speaking to Louis-Philippe. Lafayette came out after her drowsily, kissing her temple before getting straight to work.

 _Who lives_

In the American camp, Aaron Burr cleaned his musket carefully. He watched as soldiers dug the trenches and built parallels before setting down the gun and joining them. Coming in between Alexander and another, he sent a tight-lipped smile towards his friend and hauled the wood along.

 _Who dies_

"John, here," Alexander huffed. "Thanks, Burr," the man nodded and walked off to help gather more wood. The freckled man grinned, grabbing hold of the wood. "The British are going to lose," he stated confidently and held out a hand for his old friend. Taking it, they pulled each other into a hug, clapping the other's back.

"If you die, I'll be so pissed," John muttered and Alexander chuckled.

"Same for you, Laurens. I'll see you on the other side."

 _Who tells your story_

Eliza rubbed her abdomen to settle down her son as she read the letter over and over again. Her beloved Alexander's writing sprawled down the page messily and she looked out the library window, wondering if by the time she had first laid eyes on the paper, if her Alexander was still alive. _He is,_ she told herself.

"Eliza?" Angelica appeared at the door, "Lunch is ready - I've been calling for you."

"Sorry," she muttered, distracted. Pulling her shawl over her arm, she walked towards her sister. "Angelica,"

"Hm?"

"If Alexander doesn't make it-"

"He will - he's too stubborn not to." The eldest assured and Eliza bit her lip. There was a bright fire that was in her husband, an inferno that could not be quenched. It gave her life and was so dangerous, so close to burning her, and yet held such a warmth - a pull - that she could not deny. But it was at times like this did she truly feel helpless. If only she could have the strength, _no._ She did have the strength. _She could do this._

"Of course," and a slight smile came to her face, "this is Alexander we're talking about. He's more likely to die holding a quill than a gun." Angelica chuckled as they made their way to the dining room. If only Eliza could take back her words had she known what were to happen.

 _I know that we can win. I know that greatness lies in you._

Another sunset, another day gone. Wiping the dirt from her face, Genevieve sat down beside Lafayette in their tent. He handed her a cloth and she wiped the rest of it off. "Thank you," from outside the slightest sliver of the tent flap, she could see the brilliant orange hues of the sky. Preparing for bed, she watched as Lafayette laid down, already half-asleep.

 _But remember from here on in, history has its eyes on you._

" _We won!" Genevieve sighed, stumbling blindly towards him. She ran into his outstr_ etched arms and they watched together as the redcoat waved the white flag. Blood stained her face completely, making her almost unrecognizable. Only her eyes told him who she was. They collapsed in a heap on the ground. "Lafayette, we won."

" _Oui, ma_ _chérie,"_ he replied and she held his face in bloody palms. He winced, feeling the sticky red substance streaking trails across his skin. "Gen?" Her eyes, seconds ago, seemed so alight with victory. Now they were dull, muted as her unfocused gaze met his. His blood ran cold. "Gen?" His hands on her waist shook her but it was no use. Feeling for a pulse, he found a fading one as her heart slowly pumped the last of her blood. "Gen, no!" He screamed in vain. Her cold fingers traced circles on his cheeks, trying to imprint him on her mind before she died.

"Lafayette," she gasped, tears tracing a clear trail down her bloodstained face. "I… I…"

"Don't leave me, please,"

Tears bit at his eyes, blinding him as she rested her head against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Sobbing, he hugged her tightly, hoping to squeeze life back into her. Her hair was damp with blood but he ran his fingers through the mess anyway, kissing her frigid skin. Her breath fanned across the hollow of his neck, slowly becoming weaker as he squeezed her hard.

"I…" she tried to say but he shushed her.

"No, don't. Please, don't leave me," he whispered lowly, a cry-induced rasp in his voice. Blood spilled over his fingers splayed on her back, running warmly over his skin and he realized with a start that a knife was protruding from her back. " _Non, non, non!"_ Closing his eyes, he tried to block out the image as she slowly became limp. Then, she leaned completely against him, no muscles at work to hold her together. Her head fell against his chest and he sobbed, tears hot with fury. His heart shattered, falling to the ground. A hole, a vacuum, occupied his chest and he felt empty. Cold. _Dead._

"Who did this?" He screamed to the empty street until his vocal chords begged for a break. His throat burned. Then he screamed again and felt the ground shake.

"Lafayette?" _No, you're dead._ "Wake up! Lafayette!" Sitting up, he felt sweat pour down his back and face as he blinked repeatedly. "Lafayette, are you alright?" Two green eyes focused on him and he realized that it was a dream. "Laf…"

"Gen," his vocal chords were on fire. At least one thing was true. She stroked his hair and he felt the tears still run down his nose and cheeks. The salty tears were wiped away by her as he grabbed her by the shoulders and hugged her. "I thought you were gone," he breathed and she held on to him as tight as she could. Her heart beat under his hand. _It was all a dream._

"I'm here," she assured and pulling back, she smiled softly. Her skin was only marred by dirt. Not blood. There was no knife in her back. Her hair was just a knotted mess. No dried blood clumped in the tendrils.

"You are here," he repeated and the brunette nodded. Taking his face in her hands as she did in his dream, she brought him close. "You are here," her breath fanned across his cheek as his eyes slid closed. The horror made him feel empty still as she kissed away his tears.

"I'm here," and then she captured his lips in hers for a brief kiss, reassuring him that she really was alive. Shaking, he felt numb as she melted away the icy terror at his core with another hug. "I'm alive. We'll win. Okay?" Another shaky nod. "I love you."

 _History has its eyes on you._

 **A/N: Oh, boy. We're so close to the end of the revolution, y'all. Sorry that the proposal wasn't all with a ring and shizz. But come on, Washington snitching on Laf is so much better. Anyone still out there reading besides BriCat03, Kitty of 2 kingdoms and Dulharpa? If so, leave me a review below because that might mean a new chapter comes out quicker!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **BriCat03: Aah! I'm sorry I didn't come to you for the proposal scene. I had no idea how I wanted it until just now, writing it. Sorry! But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: SHE WENT TO YORKTOWN. SHE DID IT!**

 **Dulharpa: Aay, I see your review now! Thanks for reviewing, ahh!**

 ** _* Pourquoi es-tu ici? Je pensais que vous étiez à la maison! Qui vous laisse partir? Était-ce Peggy? Je pari que c'était Peggy."_ Courtesy of BriCat03, this translates into, "Why are you here? I thought you were at home? Who let you leave? Was it Peggy? I bet it was Peggy."**

 **** "It was not his fault that he was not killed or wounded, he did everything that was necessary to procure one or the other." Real line right there, people. Laf actually said that.**


	16. The World Turned Upside Down

**A/N: I hope you don't mind or that you like the format this chapter is in. Since it's the end of Yorktown, I decided to do it a new way, y'know?**

* * *

 **Chapter 16: The World Turned Upside Down**

 _October 17, 1781_

 _After a week of fighting, a young man in a red coat stands on a parapet._

A white flag.

Genevieve blinked. _Is it truly?_ Looking at her fellow soldiers, she saw the same amazed disbelief upon their face.

 _We lower our guns as he frantically waves the white handkerchief._

Now she truly felt the aching burn of her wounds. A bayonet had grazed her thigh and she had a few bruises. There were hurrahs and she raised her musket to the air. Victory pumped in her veins and she hugged the nearest soldier who grinned, yelling in French.

 _And just like that it's over; we tend to our wounded, we count our dead._

Genevieve watched as the doctor made a makeshift sling. He guided the arm of a soldier through it before straightening. "Thank you." The American said.

"Rest. Do not strain your shoulder or you risk permanent damage." Nodding, he let him go to tend to other patients as George Washington lead a soldier's chorus. Her eyes scanned the crowd and she got up, slipping between the soldiers. Her leg was bandaged and her bruises would heal with time. Finding a familiar face, she felt joy flash in her core. _God_ , _it's good to see you._

"Alexander!" She called and he looked over his shoulder. A small cut was scored across his cheek and bandages wrapped around his hands. He grinned and engulfed her in a hug. "John?"

"Safe." She let out a sigh of relief as George Washington entered the tent where their captive was. The redcoat drummer who had signalled the surrender had been taken as a prisoner and was now being held in one of their tents. Many soldiers raised their heads when they noted his destination.

 _Black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom._

"General Washington?"

 _Not yet._

The exhausted expression said it all.

 _October 18, 1781_

"Find John Laurens. We're to leave to negotiate a surrender."

 _We negotiate the terms of surrender. I see George Washington smile._

They returned, the party of three, at night. Alexander raised his head first as Genevieve lowered hers between her knees. Nausea was stirring in her stomach and she tried to swallow it back. For a moment, it seemed it settled and she finally looked up.

"Let's go." The tight-lipped smile on George Washington's face gave Genevieve hope. With luck, this would all be over soon. "They were not granted the Honors of War in revenge for Charleston. Another small victory." John's strong words were full of conviction. Taking his hand, she got up. "Come on, let's sleep and wake up to see victory stain the sky at dawn." Despite the great news, she realized with a heavy heart that she had not yet spotted _him._ It weighed down her gut and nearly made her sick again.

"I haven't seen Lafayette," she murmured in his ear and he sent her a nod.

"I'll look out for him," he whispered. Stumbling to their shelter, she ducked into the tent. No one was inside, obviously and she collapsed on the cot as the urge to heave came back again. Closing her eyes, she tried to fall asleep.

After a few moments - it was really hours - she felt a rough material, damp, brush against her cheek. Stirring, she closed her eyes tighter and found the blackness disturbed by a warm orange glow. Seeing the light through her eyelids, she attempted to turn around.

" _Mon amour,_ stay still," a gentle voice ordered quietly, the material drawing away. A hand on her waist kept her still as another brushed back stray hairs. There was the sound of dripping water before the material returned, wiping at her forehead this time.

"I'm tired," she mumbled sleepily and there was an amused chuckle. Opening her eyes just a bit, she saw the vague shape of Lafayette. He sat on the bed, cloth in hand and smiling down at her. "Where have you been?"

"Busy, _ma chérie,_ " he leaned down to kiss her forehead and she raised her chin so he kissed her lips instead. Smiling, she basked in his warmth. The candle illuminated the tent and she realized no one else was inside. "I had to organize the final papers. The surrender is early tomorrow and then we move in to escort them out of Yorktown."

"Where is everyone?"

"Outside. They could not sleep," he returned to his task of gently wiping away the blood and grime on her face. Propping herself up onto her elbow, she hugged him tightly. He dropped the damp cloth and hugged her back. "The war is over,"

"The war's over," she echoed, drawing back. He brought her into a sitting position. An arm on his back, she held herself up with the other as he kissed her cheek and rested his neck on her shoulder. "Lafayette," emotion overwhelmed her and he pulled her back, smiling. He knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"I know, _ma moitié._ " Breathing in, she let the tears trace down her face as her eyes slid close. His heartbeat pounded under her hand and his shoulders rose and fell with every breath. For a moment, she thought it a dream - that Lafayette was dead in a ditch somewhere. But when he pulled back and kissed her firmly on the mouth, she knew it was real. _Together at last._

 _We escort their men out of Yorktown. They stagger home single file._

 _October 28, 1781_

 _Tens of thousands of people flood the streets._

They rode through the streets, cheering and screaming in triumph as the army marched through. She watched as flowers were thrown and kids ran up to soldiers. Châtain nickered, raising his head high as she rode beside Lafayette. Together, along with Alexander and John, rode behind Washington, Rochambeau, Greene and the other leaders of the army.

 _There are screams and church bells ringing._

The tolls of the bell rang in her ears, almost like when a couple was wed. Looking at Lafayette, she felt her heart swell. He sent her a giant grin, leaning over to kiss her. One hand on her hat to keep it from falling off and the other on the reins, she pecked him chastely.

Alexander paused, seeing a woman beaming brilliantly with her sisters. Gesturing for the other three to follow, he lead them to where Eliza could barely contain herself. Alexander jumped off his horse, sweeping his wife up into a spin. Kissing, the Hamiltons hugged each other tightly.

"Alexander, the baby!" Eliza laughed. Hercules Mulligan embraced Lafayette while Peggy and John shared their very first kiss. Genevieve, meanwhile, was tackled by her siblings while her father barely contained his tears.

"It's over," he seemed to say over the deafening roar, "The war is truly over."

"It is," she brought him in for a hug. "God, it's finally over." She realized, looking at her father in complete amazement. "The British are _gone._ "

"Yes, Genny, that's quite clear," her father teased and she shot him a faux-foul look. Looking at her siblings, she grinned at Bennett and Ettie. Pulling back, her brother glanced at the girl who still stood where they were. Keeping Ettie to her side, a hand in hers, Genevieve sent her brother an amused look. His blush told her who it was. The girl who Bennett could never shut up about.

"Genny, uh, this is my… uh," he stumbled, a mess as Lafayette looked at his soon-to-be brother-in-law, confused.

"Bennett, what's going on?" Genevieve prompted and her brother became even redder. The girl took a hesitant forward, curtseying.

"Ms. Alcott?" Nodding, the brunette felt her sister leave her side to take the girl's hand. Lafayette wrapped an arm around his fiancée as she crossed her arms. "Joan Hopwood, I work at the corner store with my parents."

"Pleasure to meet you," she said genuinely. The girl tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear and Bennett grinned nervously.

"Go on," he whispered, "She's kind once you get to know her."

"And, uhm, I like your brother. Very much so," The poor girl was stumbling so much, clearly daunted by her physique and her uniform. Lafayette snorted, hiding his smile in her hair as Hercules coughed to cover his own. The Schuyler sisters were all taken in by John and Alexander but once they had finished, they returned back to this scenario.

It took all the willpower of John to not say something inappropriate. Instead, he smiled and kissed Peggy's cheek. Alexander just beamed as Eliza and Angelica just outright grinned at how young they were.

"That's good. He's a very dashing man," Genevieve praised to Bennett's embarrassment, "Bennett, she makes you happy?"

"Yeah,"

"Then, are you asking for my blessing or something?" Joan nodded, "You don't need it." William Alcott laughed faintly, his lungs wheezing. Concern pulsing in her, she regarded her father carefully as he waved it away.

"Thank you, Ms. Alcott."

"Genevieve," she amended and the girl nodded again. Genevieve nearly chuckled at how much of a wreck the two of them were. "Come on, let's go home."

 _And as our fallen foes retreat I hear the drinking song they're singing. The world turned upside down…_

"Mr. Alcott," in the den was peaceful. Only the Alcotts, minus Genevieve, were inside as the fire roared. Genevieve was setting up in her room and Lafayette had managed to slip away. His pocket weighed him down as he approached his fiancée's father. Sitting down, he flushed when everyone looked at him. "I want to speak to you."

"What is it, son?" The term was so fondly used and Lafayette looked to the fire. It crackled and flared, painting the room in a gorgeous orange. "Does Genny want to see me?"

"It's something to do with your daughter, actually." He mumbled and he dug his hand into his pocket. Taking out the box, he slowly opened it to reveal the golden ring. Ettie gasped, immediately running over and nearly knocking Lafayette over. Her hands rested on his shoulder as she bounced up and down.

"Let me see!" Bennett followed after, closing the book he was reading. He whistled and Lafayette blushed deeply.

"I want to marry her and she already said yes, but I have to ask you: May I have your blessing?" William Alcott answered by hugging him.

"Yes, a million times over, yes." Lafayette hugged his soon-to-be father back with a relieved smile. Ettie joined in, as did Bennett and it was all cheery as Ettie smiled up at him. _A young sister that looks up to me,_ he thought ecstatically, _A younger brother I can teach everything to._ That was what was waiting for him as soon as he married her. "Keep her happy, son,"

"I will. I promise," the _marquis_ murmured as the blonde girl looked at Bennett excitedly.

"We're going to have another brother!"

"Finally!" Bennett exclaimed and they dissolved into laughter again.

 _The world turned upside down…_

Next was Philip Schuyler. Lafayette knew that if he did it without his, at least, tolerance, the old general could make his life hell. He was in the drawing room. The Schuyler sisters had offered to accompany him as mediators and unfortunately, due to Eliza's state, that meant Alexander, and in tow, John, came along.

The Frenchman couldn't tell if the two would cancel out the daughters' effect on their father.

"What do you want, boy?" Stiffening, he looked at the man. A silver cane was laid against the couch as his wife sent him a supportive smile. Catherine looped her arm through her husband's as the Schuyler sisters stopped their conversation with Alexander and John.

"Sir, I've come to ask-"

"Sit _down,_ for God's sake. Your pacing is making me nauseous,"

"Dear," Catherine said shortly and sent her husband a look. _So they don't just get that death glare from their father._ Lafayette mused nervously, sitting down across from the man. "What is it, Lafayette?"

"Sir," he tried again, knowing his accent pissed Philip Schuyler off, "I've come to ask you for your blessing."

"For what?" He was really trying to worm it out of him. Swallowing, Lafayette looked into his hands.

"Father, you know just what." said Angelica tartly. She was in no mood for her father's games either. Lafayette raised his head again, looking at Angelica gratefully before shaking his head. He could do this.

"For your blessing - to marry Genevieve."

A pause. Then a rough laugh. "Why in God's name do you need _my_ blessing? You need William's - are you daft, boy? Or do they not teach you what to do back in France?"

"No, sir."

"Then why are you asking me?" He asked, tone derogatory.

"If you think about it," Peggy cut in artfully, "you consider Genevieve one of your own," her eyes sparked, "as _our sister_. Would it be considered daft to ask you, Father?" Schuyler was quiet and Catherine smiled, seeing her husband reasoned by her daughter an amusing sight. Schuyler relaxed, huffing in annoyance.

"To be clear, you're still not good enough for her."

"I know that, sir." Lafayette replied readily, "But I will try my hardest to be what she needs," his stare scanned the _marquis_ , testing his words. "I love her more than anything in this life. I will choose her happiness over mine every time."* They were quiet, honest, bearing how truly in love he was.

"Hun," Catherine muttered under her breath and Schuyler looked at her. They seemed to have a stare-off until Philip Schuyler finally nodded.

"Fine. Marry her, but if she comes running home with her heart broken," his fingers wrapped around the silver cane out of instinct. Lafayette could make out the faded scars on his knuckles, "I'll _gut_ you." Lafayette felt slightly relieved as his mind jotted it down that the Schuylers would literally tear him apart.

 _The world turned upside down…_

"You look beautiful," a voice at the door made her turn around. Lafayette leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Smoothing out invisible wrinkles, she smiled at him. "As always,"

"Dashing," she returned and he came into her room. Straightening his lapels, she smiled up at him. His beard was neatly trimmed and they were both finally at peace. Sighing, she hugged him. "I cannot wait to be your wife."

"And I your husband." He murmured, arms encircling her. Raising her head, she kissed him deeply. A hand came to cup his face and he placed another kiss against her lips as soon as the first one ended. "Let's get to dinner before we get too distracted,"

"Of course."

 _The world turned upside down…_

"Joan, how long have you known my brother?" Genevieve asked politely as Lafayette shared a glance with Hercules. The tailor nodded firmly and Lafayette nodded, nervous. His palm was sweaty as he played with the ring.

"We met a few years ago," the girl said, clearly daunted by all the heavies she was eating with. For a middle-to-lower class girl eating with four soldiers, Philip Schuyler, his daughters and a man as bulky and strong as Hercules Mulligan wasn't normally what she expected on a normal day. But this wasn't a normal day.

"And I've never heard of you?" She asked, tone teasing as she glanced at her brother. He rolled his eyes.

"You were at war, if you don't remember, Genny,"

"Ah, so it _was_ a secret affair."

"Shut up."

Lafayette sipped his soup, looking at his friends. They all knew his plan. Hercules kicked him under the table and he winced, choking. The other guests shared strange looks at the _thump_ but didn't comment on it. Sending a glower across the table, Lafayette felt another hand pat his back. Genevieve sent him a small smile and the dinner continued on.

As it neared its end, wine was filled in their crystalline glasses and Lafayette stood, finally working up enough nerve to stand up. He raised his glass, the wine cold under his hot hand. Eyes were on him and he swallowed nervously but a cool hand slipped into his. Meeting Genevieve's collected green gaze, his confidence rose and he nodded to himself.

"A toast," wine glasses rose, "to the end of the war." He met Alexander's eyes, then to John, and Hercules, "To hope. To… to new life." A well-meaning smile at Eliza who blushed. "But, for me, most importantly, to a woman who I cherish more every single day. Genevieve," he squeezed her hand, setting the wine glass down as Eliza placed her hand in front of her mouth, smiling excitedly. Peggy turned to Angelica, both beaming like children.

"Lafayette?" She asked uncertainly as he pulled her up. "What is this?" Her shock was so genuine that had anyone who didn't know they were already engaged were watching, they'd have thought this was completely unplanned. As it were, even everyone who did know didn't think he'd do it so soon.

"There are so many things we have not done, have not learned. Yet, we know so much more than we did when we were nineteen. We know love… affection… passion... but I want to do so much more with you. I want to learn what it's like to be married, to have children, to grow old together. Genevieve," he chuckled breathlessly and she bit her lip, shock slowly wearing off. "I love you and I know you have told me that many times but _je ne peux pas imaginer ou avoir un vie sans toi._ I just can't."**

He looked at his friends who were all proudly watching. Hercules nodded at his pocket and Lafayette lifted the flap of his pocket in his jacket, taking out the golden ring. Genevieve gasped, smiling in disbelief as he took her left hand. "Lafayette, you didn't have to-"

"But I do. I want everyone to know that you're mine - that we are one. That no matter what happens, we will always love each other. _That_ is our legacy. That is, if… if that is what you want." He added shyly and she laughed shakily, a few loose tears tracing her face.

"Of course, you idiot. I'd be honored to share your legacy," she watched as he slowly slid the ring onto her finger. The emeralds set into the pale gold reflected the glint of happiness in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up, their shoulders shaking from the endless laughs and happiness. John lead the cheer and Bennett whooped loudly. When Lafayette finally set Genevieve down, he immediately pressed a desperate kiss against her lips.

"I'm making the dress!" Hercules claimed and the Schuylers shared pleased looks. William wiped a few tears from his eyes as Ettie stood, hands clasped in front of her mouth. When the now-publicly engaged couple parted, the brunette grinned.

"You know," she whispered over the loud celebration. He cocked his head at her, "I never liked Alcott as a name anyway."

"Oh, hush," he grumbled and she laughed, turning to the others. Ettie barreled into Lafayette who hugged the girl back. " _Bonjour_ , _ma petite soeur._ " And as the servants came in with slices of cake, the white dollops of cream adorning them, they settled back down. Genevieve looked at her left hand, watching the pale gold play in the light with a smile before Lafayette entwined his fingers with hers. Leaning towards him, she kissed him before smearing cream across his face.

Angelica snorted but gawked when Alexander, ever the trickster, poked her face with a cream-dipped finger. And then it was chaos, conversation buzzing between them. It was just one big happy family.

 _November 7, 1781_

 _Down, down, down, down..._

Genevieve opened her eyes sleepily, feeling Lafayette's warm form pressed against her back. Her whole body was sore, especially her chest and she felt sick. For the past few days, she'd been dead tired and now, she could barely move as Lafayette stirred.

"Are you awake?" He inquired softly and she turned to him slowly, nodding with a tired sigh.

"Just barely," she mumbled and he kissed her forehead as she burrowed into his chest. "I'm _exhausted._ " His chest rumbled with chuckles as he hugged her close to him.

"Are you still sick?" He asked quietly and she groaned. His arms slipped away as he got ready for the day. He had to be measured for his suit. Hercules was insistent that he make the clothes and dresses.

"I think so," she said, "everywhere aches." He chuckled again when she took up the whole bed as soon as he got up. Leaning over, the _marquis_ brushed hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek goodbye.

"I'll come back at around noon and we'll go the Schuylers. Hopefully you'll be better then," he murmured and he got no response. She was already fast asleep.

 _._

When noon did indeed chime throughout the apartment, Genevieve finally managed to get herself out of bed and towards the bucket where she threw up. Sighing, she wiped her lip and clutched the bucket between her legs. _God, I've never felt this sick._ _I thought it'd be over. We've been back for a little over a week,_ she thought, annoyed. It had persisted ever since the dinner where Lafayette had given her the ring. _October twenty-eight,_ she remembered the date quite clearly. Counting the days since then, she realized it was the seventh.

Her blood chilled.

A hand rested on her abdomen. A missed bleeding. _It could just be the celebration - the excitement. It's okay,_ she told herself. _And it is just a stomach flu. It's getting colder out - sickness is bound to spread._

The door clicked. She stood, head becoming light and she stumbled back to the ground, throwing up. "Love, do you need to stay home?" Lafayette was immediately at her side, drawing her hair back as she coughed. Leaning against him, she sighed.

"I'll be fine," she tried to get rid of the acidic taste in vain as he helped her up. He gave a half-smile, wiping away the spit. "I'm just insanely hungry."

"Good thing I bought something for you. I do not want my future wife to starve," he teased, gently taking her hand and helping her to the living room. The appetizing smell of fresh bread flooded her senses and she inhaled deeply. "Good?"

"Fantastic," she agreed and they sat down on the couch, opening the bread bag and having lunch right then and there. Luckily enough, her nausea receded in the afternoon and she was able to spend the rest of the afternoon in the presence of her family.

 _November 22, 1781_

 _Freedom for America, freedom for France!_

"You're Ms. Alcott, aren't you?" She looked up as she scanned the aisles for beans at a little boy, nearly twelve. Smiling, she turned towards him and nodded. Her head protested at the up and down movement but she ignored it.

"Yes, I am. And who are you?" The brunette asked in turn. He seemed extremely excited as he looked up at her.

"My name's Myles Frampton and I'm eleven years old." He recited proudly, "I want to be in the army when I grow up." It was every boy's dream. She prayed that he'd grow out of it as Bennett did.

"Really?" She gasped in fake-amazement, "You must be very strong to be in the army."

"I was hoping you could tell me how you got in. Mother says it's terribly inappropriate for a woman to be there but I think you're really smart." Myles rambled and Genevieve grinned. She was about to answer when he added, "Is it true that you and Major General Lafayette are getting married?"

"Who told you that?" Genevieve asked, genuinely curious. The affair was kept under wraps and she knew that in time, people would notice the ring on her finger but she didn't think it'd be so soon.

"Mother," Myles informed, "but she doesn't like it. She thinks that Mr. Lafayette should settle down with a more appropriate lady. Like my sister, she said."

"Well, then," she huffed, slightly peeved. This wasn't the first time someone had expressed their opinion on her past occupation. "Tell your mother that should Lafayette love your sister more than he loves me, I will allow him to marry her instead." Myles laughed at her humorous tone. Gesturing for her to lean down, he bit his lip to hide his smile. Lowering herself down to his height, she waited for him to lean in.

"I don't like my sister, anyway." He whispered nefariously and she smiled, straightening. There were a patter of footsteps and a call of her name.

"Gen, did you find the beans?" Turning around, she saw Lafayette approaching her. Myles gawked at the sight of the famed fighting Frenchman. "Oh, _bonjour._ " The man turned to his fiancée in amusement, "I told you explicitly not to talk to strangers, love," He kissed her cheek as she rolled her eyes. He did say that as a joke before they came in.

"Major General Lafayette!" Myles squeaked, "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

"He's a fan, _dearest,_ " she told him, voice stressing on the last word. Lafayette gulped. He was in for it when they got home - probably to be a victim of her mood swings.

"I see," he crouched down in front of Myles, "Well, then, _mon ami,_ what do you want to know?" Myles opened his mouth, about to allow a river of questions to flow out of his mouth when a woman came around the corner.

"Myles Frampton!" The woman called, her voice stern as she marched over to her son. "I have been looking everywhere for you!" Myles groaned, head lowered. "I am so sorry. I hope he hasn't bothered you two," Mrs. Frampton added with a quick glance at the two before fussing over her son. Genevieve smiled slightly, knowing that the woman did not think highly of her.

"It is of no problem," Lafayette excused. The woman's head immediately snapped up at the accent. Her mouth fell open slightly and she stumbled to curtsey.

"Major General Lafayette, I didn't - I am so sorry to bother your very busy day." Mrs. Frampton rose as Lafayette drew his head back in a kind-of confused manner.

"It is of no problem," he repeated, "Your son is very charming, if Genevieve's face is anything to tell by." The brunette shot her fiancé another look and he grinned.

"Genevieve? As in… Alcott?" Mrs. Frampton asked, finally taking a good long look at Genevieve.

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. "Your son is, indeed, an energetic child. Wants to join the army one day." Myles grinned and she winked at him.

"As if you'd know. They claim for you to have saved the army in the Battle of Brandywine but that is impossible. Women do _not_ belong in the battle field." Lafayette's arm on her hip helped her keep a cool head and she forced a smile.

"I assure you, Mrs. Frampton, I am more than capable of firing a gun and fighting for my life." Genevieve's tone was so polite that if Lafayette had not known her, he would've thought it genuine. "If a scar would change your mind," she raised her right arm.

"Cool," Myles breathed and Mrs. Frampton paled, as if just seeing the pink waxy cicatrix was sickening.

"We must go, Myles." Mrs. Frampton spun around, dragging her son with him as he waved energetically.

"I hope we meet again, Ms. Alcott! Goodbye, Mr. Lafayette!" He yelled and they laughed as he disappeared around the corner.

"You know what else he said before you came?" She whispered and he leaned over to hear. The smile had yet to fade from both their faces. "She wanted to set you up with his sister. I said if you loved her more than you did I, you could marry her instead. So," she raised her eyebrow, "do you love me more or not?"

"Do you really need an answer to that, love?" He asked and she shook her head before he cupped her jaw and kissed her deeply.

 _December 3, 1781_

 _Down, down, down…_

"And do you, Genevieve Alcott, take Gilbert _du_ Motier, _marquis_ _de_ Lafayette to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love, honor and obey, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she whispered, sliding the golden ring onto his finger.

"If there be anyone present who may show just and lawful cause why this couple may not be legally wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace." No one spoke, obviously. "Then, by the authority vested in me by God, I now pronounce you man and wife and what God hath joined together, let no man nor woman put asunder." Lafayette grinned excitedly as Genevieve looked at the priest. "You may now kiss the bride," leaning forward, she captured his lips in hers. They shared their first kiss as a married couple as cheers rose around the church. Pulling apart, the two looked at their friends and family as they cheered the loudest in the front rows. Hercules, John, Bennett and Alexander being the groomsmen, the Schuyler sisters and Ettie as the bridesmaids, all were clapping and whooping from the sidelines.

Genevieve smoothed out her pale lilac dress, turning to the crowd. They were all on their feet and she grinned from ear-to-ear. Looking down at the beautiful gown again, she peeked at Hercules. Raising her head, she gave him her brightest smile. He had really outdone himself with the dress. He gave a thumbs-up and she repeated the motion and mouthed, _thank you._ He waved it away.

The gown was beautiful, a pale pastel lilac that rested against the wooden frame of the crinoline. Her corset was intricate enough with little flowers and lacings, and she wore a elegant flower crown attached to the veil. Her hair was pinned up in a bun, courtesy of the Schuyler sisters and they had managed to convince her to allow them to paint her lips a shade of red.

Lafayette was wearing a tailored tailcoat, gold epaulets to show off his military rank and buttons engraved with little decorations. The fabric was a deep navy blue, making the gold in his jacket and on his finger pop.

"Wait a minute," she muttered, and he turned towards her. Her thumb rubbed against his lip and he realized that some of the lip paint had smeared on him. "You look quite dashing in red." She mumbled and he scrunched up his nose at her. They shared their secret smile - the smile only reserved for each other. "We're married, love."

"You don't know how long I've waited for this moment."

 _December 7, 1781_

 _Gotta start a new nation; gotta meet my son..._

Another missed bleeding. That just confirmed her suspicions. The wedding was only a few days before and she was pregnant. It must've been the night they got engaged back at Yorktown. Touching the little bump on her abdomen, she grinned to herself. There was a tiny child inside her.

Lafayette was outside in the main living room as the morning sun filtered through the windows. He was working on something or other already but she was too tired to care until now. Now, a new energy filled every movement and she raised her head to call for her husband, "Lafayette?"

" _Oui?_ " He called from the other room, distracted. Letting his shirt fall back over her stomach, she stood. Appearing at the door, she smiled at him from where he was at the desk. Going over to him, she smiled softly at the ring on her finger. He looked at her, smiling brightly when he saw her as he always did since the war had ended.

Going behind him, she hugged his neck as she did when he was pouring over Yorktown plans ages ago. He leaned into her, turning to kiss her cheek. "Stand up, please." Pulling away, she allowed him room to do so as he scooted back and stood, turning to face her. Grabbing his hands, she lead him closer to the couch.

"Gen, what is this?" He asked playfully and she ignored him, ordering him to sit down. He did so, confused still, "Is this one of your mood swings?"

"No,"

"Are you hungry?"

"No,"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Lifting her shirt, she beamed radiantly down at him. The warmth bathed him in heat as he watched the gentle curve of her navel rise and fall. That had never been there before - he had never noticed it, at least. Reaching a hand gently up to it, he saw his hand shake. Genevieve took in his wide eyes as he gazed at her like a goddess, his shaky hands and his disbelieving expression as a good thing. "If anything, love, we have done something right."

"Is this…" his voice was breathy and quiet. Her hands took his firmly, placing them on either side of the bump. "Gen, are… am I…" his breath hitched when she nodded.

"I'm pregnant, Lafayette," she confirmed, "I've missed two bleedings and I'm tired, all the time. Eliza was always throwing up in her first few months and so have I - this isn't a stomach flu. Laf, we're going to have a child." He stood, bringing her into a ginormous hug as he squeezed the life out of her. He whispered endless thanks and she smiled, kissing his neck.

"Thank you," he murmured, pulling back and she held his face in her hand, stroking his cheek.

"This is something we did together. Something we will continue to do together." She told him firmly and he nodded. The _marquis_ looked absolutely in awe and immediately dropped to his knees, whispering, rambling more like, in French to her. "You know that he can't hear you yet," she teased and he sent a look at her. that just said pure unadulterated happiness.

"It is never too late to start with my child," he shot back, kissing just below her belly button. " _Je t'aime,_ "

" _Je t'aime,_ "

 _December 25, 1781_

 _Down, down, down..._

"This is one situation I didn't expect to be in," she muttered, pulling the shawl over her arm. Lafayette had painted on a smile but he tipped his head towards her at the brunette's words.

"Do you mean the political part?" He inquired just as quietly. "Or how we are in Mount Vernon?"

"Both," she said as a man approached them. He was small, with a large forehead and vaguely reminded her of some woodland creature with his twitching nose. Looping an arm through Lafayette's, she graced the man with a polite smile.

"Ms. Alcott, _monsieur_ Lafayette." The man gave a tight smile and offered a hand. "John Adams,"

"John Adams, a pleasure," she curtseyed, placing a hand in his. He took it and placed a swift kiss before releasing it to shake her husband's hand. "It's a surprise to see you," she continued pleasantly. This was not Lafayette's element. "I had heard that you had replaced Henry Laurens as the ambassador to the Dutch Republic."

"Yes. Negotiations are in order for him to be released in exchange for Cornwallis - that is, if you have kept him in one piece." Laughing lightly, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Washington sent them a look, more specifically at Lafayette. "His son - John, was it?" A nod, "He'll be glad to know of it. Any advice on where to look for him?" Adams gave a purposeful look around and Genevieve shook her head, waving the matter away.

"No worries, Mr. Adams, I'll see to it." Lafayette finally spoke and John Adams gave the Frenchman a firm nod.

"Thank you." There was a pause where the short man tried to find something to say. He had a purpose to approach the two but had lost it at the mention of his predecessor. Genevieve's small smile told him nothing and neither did Lafayette's pleased mask so he just bowed slightly and said, "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"And you as well," Genevieve watched him walk away. Lafayette grinned genuinely, turning to his wife. "Well, looks like I've learned a few things from the Schuylers after all."

"Ah, you and your brilliant mind," he kissed her forehead and she leaned on his shoulder. They began to walk through the crowd, spotting a few of their friends here and there, sneaking in a wave or wink whenever they could meet eyes.

"Come on, there's a few more people I want to talk to." She urged and he groaned playfully yet a bit genuinely. He didn't exactly enjoy how friendly she had to be in politics, no matter if it were fake or not.. "Hush, it'll be fun," Lafayette didn't believe it but he took a glass of wine off a server's plate and followed her anyway.

 _January 22, 1782_

 _We won! We won! We won! We won!_

Eliza Hamilton had been in labor for over twenty hours and in those twenty hours, Genevieve had heard every single homicidal promise to her husband, every attempt Alexander made to comfort his wife, and every variant of 'but just imagine how cute the baby will be when he's actually here!' from her sisters.

Genevieve, herself being about sixteen weeks pregnant now, was in the room as the baby worked its way out of her best friend's body. The doctor was sitting between Eliza's legs, cradling his hands underneath his head as she let out a heart-wrenching scream. Alexander and Angelica, both holding one hand respectively, were wincing with every squeeze on their hands. Peggy wiped at her sister's forehead as Genevieve made sure the doctor was fully ready.

A tray of tools - clamps, scissors, a needle - was beside him and she held a linen ready for when he finally slipped out. Glancing at the closed door, she could see the shadows of the other four men pacing back and forth. John, Hercules, her husband, and Philip Schuyler had put aside their differences and came together in joint worry.

"One more push, Eliza," Alexander urged although even Genevieve could see how nerve-racked he was. The doctor had threatened to kick him out of the room and it took a harsh scolding from Angelica to get him to get his act together but they could see it was slipping. All of them were tired and hungry.

None of them were pushing a baby out of them though so they couldn't complain.

"I can't," Eliza gasped, tears tracing down her face but Alexander kissed her temple. Another moan spilled from her mouth as the doctor looked up from between the cloth-covered knees.

"Mrs. Hamilton, one big push and it'll be done. Okay?" A terse nod, a big breath, and then _push._ Eliza's screams echoed in her ears as she trained her eyes on the head, emerging slowly then suddenly, it just slid right out. No, it wasn't the right term. _He._

"Eliza, he's beautiful," Genevieve wrapped him in a linen, holding it close to mother still as the doctor clamped and cut the umbilical cord. Making sure the baby wouldn't get cold, she carefully wiped away the blood and mucus from the baby. His eyes were scrunched tight and a tuft of dark hair adorned his head as he opened his mouth to let out a raspy cry. Swaddling him tighter, she slowly brought him over to Eliza and Alexander.

Angelica stood to make way, gasping at the tiny face. "Eliza," the single word told how proud the eldest was of her younger sister. Gently placing the bundle in the mother's arms, Genevieve drew back to where Angelica and Peggy were. Eliza's mouth opened in a smiling gasp, pulling back the linen to gently stroke the baby's chest. All strife disappeared, tears becoming happy ones as her son cried out for his mother. Alexander leaned towards his wife, immediately falling in love with him. The doctor quickly helped birth the placenta and making sure it was completely detached before standing, dipping his hands in the hot water basin and drying them. Genevieve wrapped the engorged pouch in another towel and setting it off to the side before washing her own hands.

"Let's give them some privacy," the doctor suggested, packing up his tools and gesturing to the women. Nodding, they streamed out of the room and the four men perked up. "She's perfectly fine. Send for me if something does occur," he took his leave down the hall and descending the stairs. Lafayette left out a sigh of relief and Schuyler went into the room to see his newest grandchild. Hercules and John mimicked their French friend's actions, resting against the wall.

"She's fine," Genevieve affirmed. Peggy slipped into John's embrace, exhausted.

"You think we can get something to eat? Or maybe time to sleep?" Hercules mumbled blearily, rubbing his eyes. "Or do we have to stay for the naming."

"Aren't you good at etiquette," Peggy teased, earning her a half-hearted glare from the Son of Liberty. Angelica rolled her eyes, stretching her arms above her head and letting out a yawn.

"Come on, I'm sure there's something left in the kitchen." The woman said, gesturing for them to follow. Genevieve walked beside her husband, his arm around her waist and just barely touching her growing bump as she leaned into him.

"Sounded painful,"

"I know," she replied, "and not just for Eliza. Alexander and Angelica will have bruises on their hands tomorrow."

"Ah, so will you break my fingers when _mon petit_ comes?" He asked and she shot him a irked look that lost its power in her state of exhaustion.

"Maybe," she allowed finally, resting her head on his shoulder again, "but it'll be worth it."

"Indeed it will,"

 _The world turned upside down!_

 **A/N: First things first, thank you all for the enormous feedback, love and appreciation in this fic. We reached 80 reviews quickly, something I never thought would happen. I'm honestly so grateful for all of you guys and I cannot express that enough. Secondly, I'd like to thank BriCat03 for inspiration during the proposal scene! She helped me with some of the french, hehe. Thirdly, I dunno if any of you caught that last chapter but the Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells your Story bit was symbolic if you think about it.**

 **Who Lives - I wrote from Burr's view for the first time.**

 **Who Dies - Alexander and John exchange words**

 **Who Tells Your Story - Angelica and Eliza make an appearance**

 **ALSO, IF YA KEEP FLOODING ME WITH REVIEWS, I MIGHT START PMING MY RESPONSES AND ONLY PUBLISHING GUEST RESPONSES 'CAUSE I DON'T WANNA CLUTTER THIS UP.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: I agree with Laf screaming. Honestly, it's so out of character that it's _in character,_ if you know what I mean? Thank you for reviewing!**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: I may or may not kill John, no promises! I'm not sure yet! Aaron isn't gonna die, we all know that. He has to kill Alexander at the end (whoops, spoiler)**

 **toomanydamfandoms: I READ YOUR FANFIC AND I REALLY LIKED IT! WRITE MORE! YOU CALLED ME CINNAMON BUN AGAIN! AHHHH! THANK YOU!**

 **BriCat03: Okie dokie here's your chapter ;) I hope this... SATISFIES you. Okay. HERE IS FLUFF TO HEAL YOUR HEART.**

 **4EverTheWhiteSpirt: Gen and Herc are all good now. Herc just didn't like how Gen disappeared in the beginning. Thank you for reviewing!**

 **PaintingMusic14: Awh, that's so sweet! Thank you so much for reviewing - I don't believe this is worth dropping _everything_ but I'm glad you think so. Just... don't drop emergency duties. That'd be pretty bad.**

 **Strawberry Cat: I agree. I've had terrible experiences with OCs, both in reading and writing, so I strive to make mine at least tolerable :P**

 **Dulharpa: Thank you so much!**

 **Chiruka: Yess! SIMPLE GESTURES MEANING MORE IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. That's why I like to add lots of hugs! Your review literally made my day when I first got it and I still re-read it again with a huge smile! Good luck with your tests!**

 **stranger ways: THANKS!**

 **ToshimiOkami: Thank you! I hope you went over those lectures eventually though. Don't wanna fail class or anything!**

 **You don't need it: That... that... thank you. Especially** **2cnd-new-episode-of-the-new version-of-Samurai-Jack-intense. That sentence is now permanently in my vocab to describe awesome stuff.**

 **2sourlemons: She is totally alive! It was all a dream.**

 *** "I love her more than anything in this life. I will choose her happiness over mine every time." Because I love Congratulations/Angelica's part in The Reynolds Pamphlet**

 **** "...je ne peux pas imaginer ou avoir un vie sans toi. I just can't." Translate: I cannot imagine or bare to have a life without you. If it's wrong, someone correct me.**


	17. Victories

**Chapter 17: Victories**

 _February 26, 1782_

"What do you mean, 'It will only be a few weeks?'" Genevieve demanded as Lafayette continued to pack his bags. "I'm pregnant!"

"I know, _mon amour,_ but Washington was finally forced to plan a victory tour. Unfortunately, that includes me." He explained for what seemed like the tenth time. "It is only the Eastern states and it won't be for long," he made a mental note to never leave his wife's side again after this mandatory trip. Placing a hand on her swollen middle, he felt a kick against his palm as if the baby didn't want the father to leave either.

"See?" She sounded slightly smug. Scooting up farther up the bed, she sighed as her back eased against the pillows, "Even the baby doesn't want you to leave."

"I know, but," he held onto her ankle where he sat at the end of the bed, rubbing small circles on her skin, "think of it this way. I can irritate you less when I am in Virginia."

"And why can't I come with you?"

"You are _pregnant._ "

"So?" With a roll of his eyes, he resumed packing his bags. "I hate you,"

"I know," he closed his bag and crawled up onto the bed beside her. Resting his head on her bump, he tried to imagine the little being inside. " _Mon petite, je t'aime._ I will be right back." Raising his eyes to look at her dark ones, he realized she was more upset about not being able to come than him leaving. He kissed her lips, each cheek and pressed their foreheads together.

"Lafayette…"

"I will make sure every man, woman, and child knows that you helped liberate our country."

"I still don't see why I can't come - all you're going to do is be eating, travelling and talking to the public. I am excellent at all three."

"Not in your current state."

"Carriages do exist, you know." She brushed her fingers against his cheek and he frowned slightly. "The baby isn't due for another three months." Her insistent gaze coupled by the fingers running through his hair and the other rubbing his arm made him cave. And that smile. God, he'd die to see that tender smile for the rest of eternity. His wife leaned in to kiss him and he reciprocated eagerly.

When she pulled back expectantly, he sighed. Giving her a reluctant nod, the _marquis_ pulled back into a sitting position and rested a hand on her abdomen, "I will write to Washington." Her smile grew, a hooked smirk as her eyes sparked with mischief.

Then did he realize she played him like a fiddle.

"You… you…" he scrambled for the right word, "you _wicked_ woman!"

"I love you," she pulled him in for a hug and he just let defeat wash over him, rather used to it. The Frenchman seemed to be losing a bunch of battles lately concerning his wife. Of course, he didn't mind it at all.

 _March 7, 1782_

"Virginia,"

"Yes."

"And Thomas Jefferson lives… _there?_ "

A sigh. "Yes."

"It's impressive." She just barely managed to say that as they rode past Monticello. Across from her, Lafayette was staring at the anachronistic building as well. No doubt was it expensive. "Are we meeting him?"

"Not today. Tomorrow night, perhaps. His wife has been under the weather lately." Nodding, she turned to face her husband again. Resting her head against the side of the carriage, she closed her eyes.

"It must have taken every favor Washington owed you for him to allow you to bring me along." She remarked, eyes still closed and he chuckled. Recalling the former general's face when he saw her state, she allowed her own wide smile.

"He is growing sentimental in his old age," Lafayette quipped and she opened her eyes. His dark eyes met hers, light with laughter. "What do you say about Georges?"

"Georges?" She repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. A fonder smile came over, a smaller one yet more meaningful. The name of their firstborn after one of the greatest. "For our son."

" _Oui._ " He said nervously, "Do you like it?" Her thoughts swirled around Washington. He was an irreplaceable ally, leader, and acquaintance, but she knew that to Lafayette, he was a father and a role model that he never got to have. "He is like a father to me and I would not be here-"

"Georges is perfect," she assured, reaching for his hand. _As are you._ "And if we have a daughter? No doubt the universe may swipe the rug from under us again." Lafayette seemed mildly confused by the idiom but ignored it anyway. The carriage shook gently as they were pulled along. Châtain was with the General, no doubt going to be the one to pull their carriage. She missed her steed but he was no doubt enjoying the pampering he was receiving as they traveled through the states.

"That is for you to decide, although I hope we do not."

"Why?" She asked, slightly bewildered and offended.

"Because," a smirk, "if she is like you, there is no doubt, all men will fall at her feet." Feeling her baby kick, she felt a warm feeling glow in her chest. Pulling her braid over her shoulder, she sighed and looked out the window.

"Father wanted to name Ettie Joanne, after my mother. I think he knew she was going to die," a wry, sad smile, "but when the time came… Joanne became Harriet. It was her last wish." Lafayette nodded, silent. "I want to name her after my mother but I don't think my mother would like it - she was always a virtuous woman. She'd want something different." This time, the smile became softer around the edges as she recalled her mother's arguing with her father.

" _What about Emmeline?"_

" _Emmeline?"_

" _Yes, William. Lillian is so… common."_

" _But it's a beautiful name."_

" _As is Emmeline!"_

" _Can we continue this tomorrow?"_

" _Or Harriet? Ettie for short."_

" _Joanne, please sleep."_

" _I won't sleep until I win this argument."_

" _It's one in the morning!"_

That had made her laugh and even now, it brought a nostalgic smile to her face. _Emmeline…_ she liked the sound of that.

"Whatever you choose, it will be perfect," he said confidently as she looked down at her swollen abdomen. _You're already perfect,_ she thought to her baby. _I will love you, always._

 _._

"Thomas Jefferson won't be here," Washington muttered. Genevieve and Lafayette looked at each other. "His wife is, unfortunately, extremely ill."

"Give him my condolences." Lafayette muttered good-naturedly. Nodding, Washington turned to the _marquise,_ concern radiating off of him strongly. It took all of Genevieve not to crack even just the slightest of chuckles.

"And how are you? The pregnancy is not taking too much out of you, I hope." Genevieve smiled, amused by his concern. He knew his way around an army, but not around women.

"I'm just fine, General. It helps when Lafayette can barely stop worrying. He worries enough for the both of us."

"Sounds just like him," the General clasped his hands behind his back and nodded firmly. "Good job, son." Ducking his head, Lafayette smiled embarrassedly to the floor. Clapping the Frenchman on the shoulder before leaving the two, Washington disappeared among the crowd again. Genevieve hid her smile by resting her chin on Lafayette's shoulder as Alexander came over with Hercules.

"What'd he say?" the man asked, curious as Hercules snorted at his friend's expression. Lafayette's face was slightly red as Genevieve proceeded to explain.

"Embarrased him to no end."

Alexander nodded sagely, personal experience making him wiser, "Ah, so the usual?"

"Yep."

 _March 21, 1782_

"John!"

"Oh, good Lord help me." John muttered under his breath. He was met with women cheering his name. It seemed the suave soldier persona along with his handsome features had made him a popular and unfortunately, eye candy to desperate women.

"Mr. Laurens!" They just had to be going through the streets of Charleston, his home town. And then the peace was disturbed. Lafayette hid his smile as Genevieve and Hercules share a look. Alexander clapped his best friend on the back. Not many people knew he was courting Peggy Schuyler.

Good thing even less didn't know that Lafayette married. Only a handful of women had come up to the Frenchman in hopes of winning over the handsome debonair.

John glared at them over the people crowding around him, screaming silently for them to help and Genevieve finally broke free from her slight giggle fit. "Alright, ladies, break it up!" She yelled over their cheering and they looked at her, almost in unison.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you to tell us what to do?"

"Would you not be in love with this man?" One girl - younger, perhaps in her teens - insisted and Genevieve rolled her eyes. They knew the _marquis_ was married, just not what the bride looked like.

"Genevieve _du_ Motier _, marquise de_ Lafayette, thank you very much." Clapping her hands in front of her, she clasped them together in fake enthusiasm. "Grand. Now that introductions are out of the way, please give my friend a bit of personal space." And they did so. It wasn't even that her tone was particularly violent, aggressive or threatening. In fact, it oozed with benevolence, perhaps a bit of sarcasm, and a sweet tone. It was more that her aura scared them out of their skins. Although she was playing nice, Lafayette knew she was on her wit's end. He knew that she was barely keeping it in control because of her hormones - for once, he was glad not to be the victim of it. John let out a breath. Lafayette could barely contain his wide smile as the women, some pale and some muttering apologies, looked away.

"Thanks, Genny,"

"You're all quite ridiculous, you know that?" Genevieve snapped, her hormones getting the better of her. Those were her parting words as the group of them walked past the women. Hercules snorted and Alexander stumbled towards the spy, barely containing his laughter. Genevieve huffed and Lafayette wrapped an arm around her, kissing her temple to try and appease her.

" _Tu es_ _fantastique._ "

"Shut up,"

 _April 9, 1782_

"God, I hate South Carolina."

"You grew up here,"

"You grew up in the Caribbean - did you like it there?"

Alexander shut up.

 _April 23, 1782_

"You are heavenly," Genevieve groaned as Lafayette massaged her foot. Leaning against the couch, she let her wet hair drip down onto the floor as he chuckled. "Seriously - I cannot stress that enough."

"You're carrying and forming a child inside you. Nothing is too much," he assured and she sighed. Their hotel room was relatively small - they didn't need much - and after a busy afternoon parading through the streets of New York City.

"I just wish we didn't have to go to that party later."

"Washington said this one is mandatory."

"I know." He set down her foot and leaned forward to kiss her. Giggling under her breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he smiled against her lips. "I love you, you know that?"

" _Je sais,_ "

 _May 30, 1782_

Genevieve stared out the window, leaning on the edge of the carved out space. Touching the frosted glass, she sighed. Her baby wouldn't seem to settle, even if she wanted to, which ended in a few sleepless nights and many naps during the day. She didn't want to bother Lafayette and Eliza suggested more pillows. However, her belly seemed too big to find a place to sleep.

 _"It is quite big - bigger than when I was pregnant with Philip. Perhaps your son will be as big as a pumpkin when he's born."_

 _"God, I hope not. A pumpkin coming out of me? I might as well die!"_

Smiling fondly to herself, she sighed. No matter what, she'd be glad when he was finally in her arms. Or she - a daughter would make her just as happy.

Lafayette rubbed at his eyes, blinking once or twice before closing them again. Turning to throw an arm around his wife, he opened his eyes when he realized she wasn't beside him. Getting up, he could make out the slight crack of the door. He felt goose-flesh rise as he opened the door, a shiver crawling up his spine. The wooden door creaked and he winced, stepping into the hallway.

The image in front of him made his heart leap into his throat.

Pale silver light came through the window in gentle rays, allowing him to make out the faint pieces of dust that floated like stars. Genevieve was leaning against the sill, skin porcelain in the light as her green eyes, at half-mast and deep, reflected the moon's rays. Her hair was washed in grey and her hand resting on her now large belly traced small circles as if to calm the little life inside. His eyes traced the line of her scar and he fell in love all over again.

She looked ethereal in his eyes - a Huntress of Artemis bathed in her goddess's favor.

"Gen?" He rasped and she finally looked at him, breaking that image yet bringing it into reality. She pulled the shawl tighter around her arms as he walked up to her. Kissing her deeply, his fingers brushed against her jaw.

"I didn't mean to wake you,"

"You didn't, _ma chérie._ " He whispered and hugged her. She snuggled up against him. "Why are you awake?"

"He was keeping me up," she mumbled and he chuckled slightly, resting his chin on her head. Sneaking a hand onto her navel, Lafayette closed his eyes. The baby was indeed moving a lot.

" _Mon petite,_ please stop moving. If your father has anything to say about it, it is go to sleep. Your mother will be truly upset if you do not and I will be the one to face her in the morning." The movement settled. She swatted at him, a slight smile on her face. He could hear it when she spoke next.

"Well, no need to act so haughty. Just because he listens to you doesn't mean you will be his favorite."

"I never said a thing."

"It radiates off of you… like an aura." She pulled her head away to look at him. His eyes narrowed with mirth as hers did with faux-annoyance. "It is _sickening,_ " the stress on the last word made him laugh. Kissing away her pout, he lead her back to bed. By then, her smile had returned and she settled back down beside him. Leaning over to kiss him chastely, she pulled the blankets over herself and laid down.

"Goodnight, Gen."

"Goodnight, love."

 _June 14, 1782_

It's just her luck.

Her stupid, stupid luck.

Lafayette was out with Rochambeau on some correspondence or whatever and she was with Washington in the Schuyler Mansion. Eliza was out with Alexander and Philip, their adorable little son. Angelica and her husband were at some other event out of town and John had taken Peggy out to the lake in the nearby park.

They had left her with William Alcott, Philip Schuyler, and George Washington. Three overprotective men who hovered over wherever she went.

"This isn't funny, Hercules," she grumbled as he strolled through the front door. He was already laughing at her waddling as Washington descended the steps after her, extremely stressed out at how much she was moving.

"Alcott, _sit down!_ "

"For God's sake, I am _pregnant_ not _injured_!" She retorted but the man stubbornly followed.

"Genny, wouldn't you think-"

" _Father, do not test me._ " By now, Hercules was bent over, slapping his knee as his gut ached from his peals of laughter.

"Genevieve!"

"All of you! I am fine!" Clearing her throat, she turned to Hercules, irritation still marked all over her face. The tailor sniffed, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. "Hercules, what do you need?"

"I'm, uh," he chuckled still, trying to keep the laughter at bay, "I'm h-here to," then he broke into another fit of laughs. Letting out an annoyed yell, she turned away to ascend the steps when she felt something warm trace the inside of her thigh. Fear flashed inside her and she lifted her skirts to see if she was just hallucinating. Bending over, she saw the clear fluid drip from between her legs and, aggravated, continued to try and storm up the stairs.

"Are you serious right now?" She let out another infuriated shout. Washington looked slightly distressed as more water trailed down her thighs. Contractions ripped through her and she bent over, groaning. Leaning against the stair rail, she clenched her fists.

"What's happening?" Hercules asked, snapping out of his fit when he realized she was truly in pain. Panting, she felt the contraction pass and looked at the four men.

"I think I'm in labour."

"What do you need us to do?" Washington asked, sharing a terrified glance with her father. Her green eyes, a fiery blaze, met his and she snapped.

"Get a doctor, you complete idiot!" Philip Schuyler came to help her up towards the bedroom and William followed after. They each took an arm as Washington sprinted down the stairs. "You liberated America and you still have no common sense!" The brunette was about to reprimand them even more but another contraction crashed upon her. Hercules decided not to stay for the screaming about to ensue and followed after the General.

"Wait for me!"

"Come on, Genny, a few more steps," William soothed and they staggered haphazardly towards her room. Laying her down on the bed, they made sure her back was against the pillows as she rested her head on the headboard. Bending her knees, she felt another on top of the first one. Swallowing thickly, she let out a growl through clenched teeth.

"Goddamn, where is her husband?" Schuyler asked, panic and annoyance mixed to form extreme short-tempered protectiveness. "He should be here right now!"

"He's busy with Rochambeau or something," William winced as his daughter dug her nails into his hand. Genevieve groaned, head resting on the pillow with a sigh. _Where are you, Lafayette?_ She growled hopelessly. Staring up to the sky, she prayed that he'd get here soon.

.

Lafayette didn't expect to return early in the morning to a pacing, anxious Alexander as Bennett sat on the stairs. Back and forth the scribe walked and Lafayette looked up to see John similarly pacing on the upper floor. Letting a servant take his jacket, he rubbed his jaw.

"Lafayette!" Bennett's eyes lit up and the man grinned tiredly. "Thank God you're here."

Alexander's tone was slightly frigid as he looked up. "Get your ass up the stairs now."

"Alexander-"

"Is he here yet?" Peggy appeared beside John who was now leaning over the rail. "Oh, good. He is." There was a low groan that echoed through the home and Lafayette felt his heart drop into his gut. That was not a sound he wanted to hear. He ran up the stairs without any persuasion and past Washington, her father and Schuyler. He burst into the room.

"Is she alright? Is she okay?" He asked frantically. The doctor was in between his wife's legs, checking on the progress of the baby. The Schuyler sisters were all in the room along with Ettie who was holding onto her hand.

"She's been in labour for ten hours. Where have you been?"

"Meeting ran late," he mumbled, taking Angelica's place at his wife's side. Squeezing her hand, he kissed her forehead. "How are you, _ma belle?_ "

"In great pain, why do you ask?" She gritted out sarcastically. "I'm only pushing out your spawn." He chuckled nervously as Eliza snorted from where she held the other hand. Angelica wiped at her forehead. A scream built from the back of her throat, voice cracking as she clamped down on their hands. Wincing, he squeezed back to try and stave off the pain. Her green eyes, narrowed in agony met his. "If you leave me again, I will shoot you before you can say _France_."

"Duly noted, love,"

The next few hours passed with whispered threats, groans and fire burning on her lower half. Lafayette had not moved a single muscle, staying by her side. Exhausted, he only kept himself awake knowing that in the end, a beautiful baby would be in their arms. "Tell me when the pain intensifies on a scale of one to ten." The doctor ordered, wiping his hands. "Ms. Eliza, place a hand on her abdomen but do not push. I need you to tell me when you feel a contraction."

The middle Schuyler nodded, gesturing for Ettie to take her spot as Peggy came back in. She had been tending to Philip since his mother was extremely busy. "Philip is asking for you."

"He's always asking for me," Eliza sighed. "Where is he now?"

"Washington has him although he looks more worried than anyone else."

"Seven," Genevieve gasped, breaking their conversation as she sucked in a quivering breath.

"What are we waiting for?"

"For the baby to slowly make his way out. When the baby's head comes out first, that will hurt the most."

"Eight,"

"Ms. Peggy, prepare the linen towels. We have to keep this baby warm." The woman nodded, taking the fabric and unfolding it. " _Monsieur_ Lafayette, all I need you to do is play the part of loving husband. Hold her hand, support her. This will hurt like hell."

"Nine," The doctor sat back down between her legs and although he knew it was necessary, Lafayette couldn't help the protest building in his throat. It was silenced when Peggy sent him a glare. "Ten,"

"Ms. Eliza, whenever you feel a contraction, tell her to push." Nodding, Eliza watched the bulge as if it could help. Her hand was on the woman's bare belly.

"Push," Genevieve stiffened beside him, crushing his hand as she curled forward, eyes closed tight. The screams echoed off the walls and the _marquis_ murmured soft things to try and take away the pain. His bones were crushed and he felt like she was making due on her joke months ago that she'd break his fingers. For Genevieve, it was as if a ring of fire was pressed against her, burning and stretching her skin until it would snap. "Push."

"The head is almost out. One last push."

"Push." There was a shaking sigh and Genevieve collapsed in a heap of sweat and tears. The doctor took the linen from Peggy, wrapping the being in his arms. The doctor's eye softened as the bundle let out a hoarse yell, wriggling around. Peggy held the bundle, letting the doctor cut the umbilical cord before settling the baby in Genevieve's arms.

"Congratulations, you have a baby girl." The doctor announced. The bundle shifted and Genevieve inhaled sharply when she saw the gentle face.

" _Elle est belle,_ " He murmured and she looked at him, sharing a kiss. "I am so proud of you, _mon ange._ " They were so caught up that they didn't notice the doctor sit down again, wiping his arms. Gesturing for Peggy to bring more linen, he gave them a stern, sympathetic glance.

" _Monsieur_ Lafayette, take your daughter."

"What's happening?" Angelica barked as the doctor turned back to in-between Genevieve's legs.

"Is there something wrong?" Genevieve asked, voice cracking as more tears were shed. Ettie gnawed on her lip, clutching onto Genevieve as hard as she could. This was exactly how they lost their mother. "Please, am I going to die?" Lafayette regarded her sharply, shaking his head. The doctor mimicked his actions, gently probing between her thighs.

"You're giving birth."

" _Again?_ " Eliza's shocked tone resonated all their feelings. Lafayette swallowed a knot in his throat as the doctor nodded.

"We're going to have another child?" He choked out and the doctor snorted in amusement.

"Yes and yes." Genevieve's lower body was lifted to change the linen coverings before being lowered again. The doctor frowned slightly. "The next baby should come in ten to fifteen minutes - rarely is it longer and rarer still are they born only seconds apart." Gritting her teeth, Genevieve felt more tears pour down her face.

"Thank God. Did you hear that?" Excitement made him jumpy as he cuddled his daughter close to him. "You're doing fine, Genevieve."

He was met with a sarcastic response, "Really? I hadn't noticed! It's just my luck," she grunted and Lafayette kissed her sweaty brow. "I have two of your spawn to deal with."

"You don't mean that," he said knowingly and she squeezed her eyes tight. Hours seemed to pass when finally, her body was ready again.

"She's dilated. Ms. Peggy, towel!" A contraction shook through her as there was a knock on the door.

"What's going on in there?" William asked on the other side, nearly dead with worry. Philip Schuyler gripped his silver cane until his knuckles blanched while Bennett and John tried to distract themselves. Alexander and Washington were engaged in a serious conversation, sending quick glances to the closed door. "Genny? Genny!" Ettie looked helplessly between the door and her sister. Understanding, Angelica left bedside to go to the door. Opening it just a tiny sliver, she fixed a commanding mask upon her face.

"She's fine - please be patient. Just a tiny surprise but it will be okay." With that, the door was closed.

"That probably wasn't the best thing to say to them, Angelica," Peggy quipped over Genevieve's pained sounds.

"Leave it to you to joke as I push a baby out of me, Peggy," Genevieve hissed. The words built into another hoarse yell that subdued itself into a long-drawn moan. Finally, he slipped out and Genevieve raised her head. There was no cry - no sound from her newborn. "Is he okay? Is he hurt?" She asked, panting. Lafayette, one arm holding his daughter, other holding onto his wife, waited anxiously as the doctor snipped the umbilical cord once again. He administered sharp taps to his bottom when the baby didn't start crying.

"Doctor?"

"Just wait." A cough. Then he started crying and wriggling against the linen Peggy wrapped him in. "There you go. A strong pair of lungs your boy has." A large smile surfaced on all their faces as her baby son was placed in her arms. _A son and a daughter, the best of both worlds,_ Genevieve mused. All pain was forgotten as the doctor birthed the placenta easily. Leaning into Lafayette, she gazed at her two children.

"Emmeline," she mumbled suddenly and her husband watched as her bent finger gently traced her daughter's face. "Emmeline for our daughter." Brushing her temple with his nose, Lafayette breathed in happily.

"Georges for our son," there was something completely filling about the fact that their family was now even more complete. " _Mon fils, ma fille, bienvenue à le monde._ I love you." Whether directed to her or their new children, Genevieve didn't know. It didn't matter anyway - she felt the exact same way.

"I love you," she pressed a soft kiss against her son's forehead, inhaling that heavenly smell only babies could have. The past seventeen hours were nothing if it meant a lifetime with the people she loved the most. As she held Georges in her arms, she felt a part of her completely heal - two puzzle pieces clicked together and her life fell into place. And somehow, the brunette thought that maybe, just maybe, her mother was proud of her in heaven.

 **A/N: Choked. I have been waiting to write this for a long while and I'm so glad I've finally reached it! Thank you so much for the support and love; I love y'all so much. BriCat03 asked a good question: Am I continuing this fic since none of them are soldiers now or am I doing a sequel. The answer: Yes, I'm continuing this fic until the very end of the French Revolution. I originally wanted to do a sequel but I thought it'd be easier to just make it one big fic and separate it into two acts. We're nearing the end of the first act, guys and in act two, Genevieve is gonna become a different kind of soldier. HINT HINT.**

 **Until next time!**


	18. Firsts

**Chapter 18: Firsts**

 _July 2, 1782_

Genevieve sighed as Lafayette took Emmeline from her arms. Her daughter cooed, small fist bumping into the buttons on his jacket as he smiled tiredly at his wife. Kissing her on the cheek, he admired his wife. "You look beautiful."

"I look exhausted." She corrected.

"Why can you not be both?" He quipped, kissing her mouth this time. "I'm surprised that they are so well behaved."

"Me too," she agreed, bringing Georges closer to her when he wanted her attention. Her son cuddled closer to her and she smiled fondly, kissing his forehead. "We have to get to that wedding, though. It must be lucky." Giving her husband a look over, she felt heat rush to her face. "You look absolutely ravishing."

" _Merci,_ " he murmured, opening the door for her. Making sure Georges was happy in his arms, Genevieve exited their room. "God, if only they'd let us sleep."

"You're not the one at home with them all the time," she retorted and he winced. It was true. He was in more diplomatic affairs than he could count, travelling too often for what they both liked. Georges nestled closer to her bosom and she sighed, looking down at her son. He was just so precious. A dark tuft of curly hair covered his head while light brown hair dusted her daughter's head. Kissing his sleepy face, Genevieve descended the steps. A carriage was already waiting and the coachman opened the door. Climbing in, she made sure Lafayette was behind her.

Emmeline, being her father's daughter, was already fast asleep in his arms. Georges looked at his sister lazily, reaching a weak hand towards her. Lafayette sat beside his wife, leaning against her as she brought their son closer.

Georges managed to brush his closed fist against his sister's and Genevieve saw in her husband's eyes, the absolute unconditional love glowing in his eyes. Disarmed, she felt her heart and soul completely become mushy.

"I love you," she croaked and he tilted his head to kiss her gently. She closed her eyes, gently kissing back. "And I love our family."

"I know, _ma chérie._ Every day, I love them more and more. I love _you_ more and more." She pressed their foreheads together and sighed. The emotion inside her was so deeply felt, she couldn't even describe it.* "Let us get to that wedding."

.

"They're beaming,"

"I don't think I've ever seen Burr smile so wide." Lafayette snorted as the priest continued. Genevieve tried to hide her giggles, smothering them by pressing her face into Lafayette's shoulder as his whole body shook trying to stop from laughing. Luckily the priest finished whatever he was saying and Burr kissed his new wife.

Standing, the guests began to applaud. Genevieve and Lafayette laughed freely as Burr escorted Theodosia down the aisle. Beaming, the brunette followed the rest of the guests out to where the reception would be held. Holding onto her husband's hand, the green-eyed woman made sure they caught up with Eliza, Angelica and Alexander.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Genny." Alexander greeted cheerfully. "Nice to see Burr finally happy."

"Yeah. I never saw him smile much," she replied thoughtfully. John and Peggy appeared out of the crowd, smiling as well. "Looks like everyone's here." Baby Philip raised his head curiously, watching the two babies in the couple's arms sleep. He cooed to his mother who murmured back to him.

"Who's the cutest nephew ever?" Peggy gasped, taking Philip out of her sister's arms. John rolled his eyes. Lafayette caught it, a smirk curling his lip.

"What, John?" The freckled man looked at the _marquis_ in confusion. "Do you think you are above babies?"

"No, of course not. It just makes women so mushy gushy," the man waved away the matter but Lafayette didn't drop it as Alexander snorted, Emmeline in his arms. His daughter was awake, upset by the strange man carrying her. However, once Emmeline saw her father, she immediately brightened. Turning back, he saw his wife talking nonsense to Philip. Grinning, he kissed his daughter's forehead. "What is it about them anyway?"

"It's not just women, John," the Caribbean-born man warned. Without warning, Lafayette placed Georges in the skeptic's arms. Gawking, he let Lafayette fix his arms so that the baby's head was supported. Georges woke up, dazed as he stared up at John. His sleepy eyes met John's alert ones. He let out a gurgle and Lafayette watched John's composure completely break.

"Shit."

"Language!" Both fathers immediately snapped and John started.

"Sorry, I mean… shoot." He finished lamely. His gaze didn't leave Georges' face as the baby reached out a closed fist that bumped into John's nose. "Oh… my god."

"Please don't suddenly ask Peggy if you can have babies." Alexander sighed to his best friend. "Laurens."

"Alexander, look at him!" He tried to show him but when cradling a baby, there weren't many angles you could choose from. Alexander rolled his eyes at his sudden idiocy.

"I can see him quite clearly, John." But his words were wasted as John left their group, still holding onto the small Lafayette. He took his daughter from Alexander's hands, the two waiting for the women to catch up.

"Peggy, look how cute he is."

"I know, John."

"Can we keep him?"

"He's not our son!"

"Well, do you want to have a son?"

There was a silence. Eliza looked at John in shock, Genevieve's eyes nearly popped out of her skull, Lafayette's mouth nearly dropped to the floor and Alexander was choking. Meanwhile, Angelica, ever the protective older sister, pinned John with a look that could burn up even George Washington. Peggy herself nearly dropped Philip, her cheeks flaring red. Genevieve, as always, was first to recover. She cleared her throat, closed her husband's mouth and took Georges from John's arms. The movement seemed to snap him out of his daze.

"Peggy, look, I, uh," he stumbled and Peggy blinked at him. "I didn't mean for that to come out." Angelica crossed her arms, biting her tongue to see how her sister would handle this.

"John," Peggy's voice was strong, surprisingly but he kept blabbing. Eliza, finally recovering, took Philip from her sister's arms and walked to Alexander, looping her free arm through his.

"If you don't want children, that's totally fine."

"John."

"If you don't want children with _me,_ I'd understand."

"John."

"God, why did I say that I'm so-"

"John!" Peggy grabbed him and pressed a kiss against his lips. It took a while but John's hands hesitantly rested on her hips. "Honestly, you need to shut up sometimes."

"But-"

"I'd be _honored_ to have your child. A child of a man who knows that having slaves is wrong, who fought for freedom of our country, would grow up to be at least half as great." John was speechless for once as Peggy stroked his cheek. "I think I'm in love with you, John Laurens." His breath hitched and Genevieve smiled secretly as John stared down at the youngest Schuyler sister.

"God, really?" A nod. "'Cause I've known for a long time. Margarita Schuyler, I'm in love with you." And they sealed their confession with a long kiss.

 _August 26, 1782_

There was a sharp, piercing cry that woke Genevieve from her unfit slumber. Sitting up, she groaned when her hand landed on the empty space beside her. _Lafayette's gone. Right._ The _marquis_ was away at Mount Vernon with Washington. It was a long time affair as well. Three weeks at most.

Soon, another cry joined in and she was forced to get up. They had purchased a new apartment with their funds uptown. It was much bigger and she appreciated it, the view from the windows a sight that couldn't compare. Entering her children's room, she found them sitting up, crying. Scooping both of them up haphazardly, she kissed their foreheads and brought them towards her.

"Sh, momma's here." Yet they still continued to cry. It was not one for hunger but just out of pure need for love. Bringing her children out to the moonlit living area, she stared up at the moon, wondering if Lafayette was staring up at it too or if he was already asleep. Continuing to her bedroom, she laid them down on the large bed before running to their room again and grabbing their crib. "I hate myself," she mumbled as she finally managed to get it through the door.

Dragging it across the floor, she winced when it bumped into other pieces of furniture and she felt sweat begin to bead at her forehead. Once she got it inside, she set it near her bed and placed them both back inside. They were quieter now, curious as to what on Earth their mother was doing.

"Come on, sleep," she sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the side of the crib. Emmeline and Georges looked at each other before letting out another loud cry. Thinking quickly, she started singing a song under her breath.

" _You will come of age with our young nation,"_ The babies quieted. She wiped away their tears, a smile on her face, " _we'll bleed and fight for you. We'll make it right for you._ _If we lay a strong enough foundation, we'll pass it onto you, we'll give the world to you and you'll blow us all away. Someday… someday…"_ A small lullaby she had caught on when Eliza and Alexander couldn't get their son to sleep. " _Yeah, you'll blow us all away…_ "

Their eyes slowly closed and she sighed, standing up and leaning over to kiss their heads. They let out little warbles at her touch and, now satisfied they were sleeping, Genevieve went back to bed.

 _December 13, 1782_

Lafayette was an absolute wreck.

That was the shortest way to put it.

Genevieve was away at some party with the Schuylers which meant he was left alone with the children. The children who only went to sleep when they woke up when Genevieve sang to them. The children who now slept in their room.

The children of a man with no singing capabilities whatsoever.

Oh, god.

He prayed that tonight was one of the nights the twins would not wake up. After a brief dinner, he put them to bed easily enough, changed and went to bed. He went to sleep. Easy enough - he was exhausted. Taking care of two energetic children with strong vocals and big appetites was harder than it seemed. He understood now why they ran out of food so frequently.

It was all fine until at around midnight, there was one scream. And when there was one scream, sure enough there would be two. Lafayette started, blinking and pushing himself off his stomach from where he slept. Rolling to the edge of the bed, he looked into the crib to find them crying, eyes closed tight.

" _Sacré bleu,_ " he mumbled, picking up Georges and holding him close. Sitting him down on the bed, he reached in to grab his daughter, wincing when she accidentally slapped his nose. "Emmeline, how could you?" He gasped in fake offense but the baby kept crying. Hugging his two children close he laid back down and let them rest on his chest, even though it made breathing difficult.

 _What was that tune that Genevieve would always sing?_ He tried to remember and unconsciously, the humming began in his chest where his babies' ears were. They raised their heads, Emmeline crawling closer to Lafayette's head as she wrapped her small arms not even all the way around his neck. Smiling, he kept humming as Georges fell onto his side with a startled chirp.

Laughing, Lafayette brought his son to his side, making sure he was comfortable before closing his eyes. His throat vibrated with the constant humming and soon enough, his children were back to sleep. One arm around Emmeline and the other by Georges, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

.

When Genevieve returned early that morning, exhausted and a bit hungover, she was greeted with the sight of her husband and her children. The picture of them so peacefully asleep made her heart melt and she quickly changed out of her dress and into one of Lafayette's old shirts, sneaking into their cuddle mountain. Lafayette, dozing, opened a eye to cast a lazy glance at her. She kissed him, arms around a tiny Georges.

"Good morning," he whispered just as she closed her eyes, ready to sleep.

"Good night."

 _April 29, 1783_

"Lafayette," there was a hoarse tone to John's voice. The man, now newly married, approached the _marquis._ They were currently at one of the many parties the Schuylers hosted. His children, with George Washington and his wife, were being watched carefully by their father. But upon the freckled man's voice, he ripped his gaze away.

"John? Are you drunk?"

"Quite possibly."

" _Mon dieu,_ " Lafayette muttered, turning to try and find Alexander or Peggy. "Where is Peggy?"

"Somewhere," John waved a hand as Hercules appeared from the crowd. The bulky man sent them a curious look. "Oh, look, it's our favorite spy." Glancing at Lafayette, the tailor sighed.

"Why did we allow him around the booze?"

"He is a newlywed, _mon ami,_ allow him to drink as much as he wants." Lafayette quipped as Genevieve approached Washington out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he watched as she scooped up the twins and approach them.

"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted, a teasing glint in her eyes. Emmeline burrowed closer to her mother at the new men, especially Hercules. Georges reached out for his father and Lafayette picked him up. "It's past their bedtime. I think your daughter is getting tired."

"'Your daughter'?" Hercules echoed, confused.

"Emmeline tends to favour her father."

"As Georges favours you," Lafayette shot back playfully as their son let out a huge yawn. Wrapping chubby arms around his neck, Georges let out a warble.

"Mama," Emmeline mumbled sleepily and Genevieve looked at her daughter in shock. Craning her neck to regard her daughter's half-closed eyes and chubby cheeks, she brought an index finger to stroke the baby's cheek. On reflex, Emmeline wrapped a soft hand around the larger finger.

"Emmeline, did you just-" Hercules, John and Lafayette were just greeting Alexander and the Schuyler sisters, and she glared at them. "Shut up!" They started, staring wide-eyed at her. "She just said her first word." They fell into an almost reverent silence as Genevieve kissed her daughter once again. "Emmeline, who am I?"

"Mama," the baby repeated and Angelica clapped her hands in front of her mouth in delight. Peggy and Eliza gasped as Alexander and John smiled proudly.

Meanwhile, Lafayette's mouth dropped open. Georges raised his head, floofy hair falling over his eyes. They looked at the twin boy to see if he would do the same. He hugged his son close as Georges withdrew his arms from around the Frenchman's neck. As Emmeline kept repeating 'Mama', beaming widely, Georges' face came together in concentration.

" _Mon fils, je t'aime._ " The Frenchman murmured and his son cocked his head in confusion before bouncing up and down in his father's arms and clapping.

"Papa!" He cheered and soon he was chanting it along while his sister giggled, echoing her own first word over and over.

And everyone in their group just absolutely lost it.

 **A/N: Big notes: JEGGY GOT MARRIED! TWINS SAID THEIR FIRST WORDS! THIS IS THE LAST COMPLETE FLUFF CHAPTER. Anyway, THANK Y'ALL FOR 100 REVIEWS? LIKE HOLY MOLY THANK YOU! GUEST REVIEWS DOWN BELOW! I WANT TO DO SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR YOU GUYS BUT IDK WHAT**

 **Should be the last non-plot chapter for now. Next one is gonna be plot!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: But if I named Georges Oliver, that means Genevieve named both of her kids. I'd like to think it as they each get to pick a name because why not! EY THANKS ANYWAY!**

 **Guest(1): Haha, a lot of people suspected it.**

 **Guest(2): Woo! Pregnant Genny! Well... she isn't pregnant anymore.**

 **Guest(3): Laf being late is my aesthetic.**

 **Strawberry Cat: Yes! Twins!**

 *** _The emotion inside her was so deeply felt, she couldn't even describe it._ How I feel writing this fic. I am completely in love with writing this fic and I seriously cannot express how much I love with the Lafayette Fam.**


	19. France

**Chapter 19: France**

 _November 19, 1785_

"Goodbye, Papa," she mumbled, kissing his cheek. Bennett and Ettie, holding their nephew and niece respectively by the hand, shared half-smiles as Lafayette took his son from his brother's arms. Hugging him briefly, the _marquis_ pulled back with a smile. Georges clung to his father's leg although he regarded his uncle with a bright smile.

"Stay safe, Genny." He whispered back and they parted. The waters shifted and she winced, knowing that the ever-looming departure was just upon them. A pang of sadness hammered on her soul - the Schuylers weren't there to see her off. Angelica had moved to Europe two years ago, Eliza was pregnant, and Peggy was off with John at an important meeting about slavery. The youngest Schuyler was an activist for the equality of all men, often dining with, and more often than not, criticising those she ate with for owning slaves.

Genevieve could remember the look on George Washington's face when a much-shorter Peggy Schuyler reprimanded him for not freeing his own slaves.

A bittersweet smile surfaced on her face and she swallowed difficulty. This time, she had not even the slightest if she was going to come back.

"I love you, Genny," Ettie gave her niece a hug and let her hand go, hugging her older sister before pulling back with a small smile though tears lurked beyond her eyes. Brushing a curl of blonde hair behind Ettie's ear, Genevieve kissed her sister's forehead.

Bye bye, Auntie Ettie," Emmeline mumbled reluctantly, not wanting to leave the now-eighteen year old woman. Hercules, surprisingly, hugged her as well after a teary embrace with his best friend. "Hercules!"

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, picking Emmeline up and throwing her into the air before placing her back down onto the floor. "Have fun in France, alright?"

"Okay," she promised and went back towards her mother, half-hiding in her skirts as she reached up to hold her mom's hand.

"You going to come back?" He asked and Genevieve shrugged, peeking at her daughter's face. Emmeline was watching her grandfather, waving with a smile. "Stay safe, keep Laf outta trouble."

"I'll try," she agreed and finally, had to tear herself away lest the ship leave without them. "Goodbye," Lafayette's arms rested across her shoulders as they boarded the ship. Tears crawled down her cheeks as they pulled out of port. Leaning over the side, she waved and kept waving as they screamed after her.

"Goodbye!" Lafayette yelled finally once they were little more than just specks at the harbour. Emmeline reached towards her father who took her hand and they went under to their room. It was cramped, yes, but nothing they haven't lived in before. In fact, it was much better than some days out in the open. Their trunks already inside, Genevieve sat down on the bed as Lafayette gave Georges to his mother. Her son immediately hugged her neck, getting quite good at not letting go.

"Laf?" He hummed, turning around from where he was patting his daughter on the back. She seemed a bit tuckered out and sad that she was leaving the only home she knew. Genevieve felt a pang of guilt - her daughter would not like France at first. She prayed that Emmeline would quickly adjust. With a quirked eyebrow and crooked smile, he gave her his full attention., "What's going to happen once we reach Paris?" The smile shrunk and she had a terrible feeling.

"Hopefully nothing wrong," he said. Sighing, he gazed at his daughter, tracing the curve of her tiny nose. Already, he saw so much of his wife in her. The blonde-brown strands definitely came from Genevieve's family. He thought back to Bennett's light hair and Ettie's completely golden locks.

"Hopefully?" Genevieve echoed. "Well, if a revolution breaks out, I hope they know who to call." She tried to joke but a weak laugh was all it drew out of him.

"Just… don't speak unless spoken to," he sat down next to her after a few minutes of pacing. "The queen is bound to show an interest in you - do not wear a revealing dress but do not wear one that shows off nothing, she will call you a prude."

"Why do _I_ have to go? I'm sure you can deal with them yourself."

"The King wants to meet you and, if we are to be honest, I will not make it through the meeting if you are not there."

"Great," she muttered, kissing her son's temple before bringing him down into her lap again. He gently patted his sister's arm who giggled happily when she saw him. "The image of a perfect wife. My absolute _favourite_ duty," her sarcasm was not lost on him.

"I know, love, but it'll only be for a few hours I hope." She rolled her eyes as her kids began a conversation only interesting to them.

"Hope? Right," she scoffed, "because fate _adores_ us." Kissing her on the lips this time, Lafayette got up and left his children by the bed. "But, I'll do it. Because I love you."

"We'll be fine." She shot him a doubtful glance.

He was always a terrible liar.

.

They had a quick dinner of dried meats before the sun began to set. Walking on the deck, Genevieve and Lafayette held their children by the hand as they watched the crew at work. Georges ran up to every man, most not too busy for the curious three year old while Emmeline begged to be picked up by her father.

Ever the willing servant, Lafayette carried his daughter to the edge of the boat. "Watch the sun, _ma petite,"_ he murmured and Genevieve smiled slightly at how adorable they looked. Holding Georges' small hand in hers, the brunette walked up to stand next to her husband. "Is it not beautiful?"

"It is," Emmeline assured, smiling as purple stained the sky. "Papa, I love sunsets!"

"As your mother loves sunrises." He casted his wife a glance and she shook her head to herself. Those days when they watched sunrises on his neighbor's roof were long gone. "Georges, come here," and hauling his son up, he made sure he could see as well. Genevieve placed her arms around her son's middle, scared that he could fall in the sea.

"Be careful, they aren't made of stone yet." She teased, kissing his jaw. Watching the sun set, she already missed home. Longing for the soft sheets of their apartment or the crib they had built themselves, she leaned against Lafayette.

"I know," he said without her saying anything. The Frenchman had done so much in America - it was his home too. "I miss Hercules and Alexander already."

"Not John?" A spark in her eyes and he chuckled.

"Maybe not just yet." He amended and she sighed, rubbing her son's chest.

"I miss all of them. Do you think… we can maybe visit Angelica in London? Or if she comes to France, we can see her?"

"Of course," he promised, "Do you hear that?" He asked his children who raised their heads sleepily. "You might see your Aunt Angelica." Picking up his daughter, he shuffled her up until her head rested on his shoulder. Genevieve was just about to do the same with Georges but he protested loudly. Setting him on the floor, he held her hand and on unsteady, tired feet, they began to slowly make their way towards their room.

"I can do it, Mama,"

"I know, sweetheart."

"Who's Auntie… An-gelic-a?" Emmeline said slowly, trying to remember the name as Lafayette kissed his daughter right behind her ear. "Papa, is she nice?"

"She's your mother's best friend."

"I thought Auntie Peggy and Auntie Eliza were Mama's best friends." Genevieve rolled her eyes playfully as Georges nearly fell off his feet. Swooping him up, the green-eyed woman felt him fall asleep as soon as he got into a comfortable position.

"Well, you can have more than one best friend, Emmeline," Genevieve murmured to her daughter who blinked her green eyes back at her mom from Lafayette's shoulder. "Like your papa - he's my best friend too. And his best friends are Uncle John, Uncle Alex and Uncle Hercules. You can have many friends."

"You are my best friend, Mama," Georges mumbled suddenly and Genevieve, heart warmed, snuggled her son closer to her. Emmeline's mouth twisted into a slight frown at her brother's sleepiness and words before hugging her father's neck.

"Then Papa is my best friend." They finally arrived at their room and they set their children down beside each other.

"We can all be best friends tomorrow morning, alright?" Genevieve promised, bringing the blankets up on them. The sea wind was sure to chill them if they weren't careful. "Goodnight - we'll be just across if you need us."

" _Bonne nuit,_ " Emmeline sighed, turning towards her brother who was already acting dead in his sleep. Lafayette grinned at his daughter's French, pride radiating from him in an aura.

" _Bonne nuit,"_ Lafayette whispered as Genevieve crossed the room and crawled into bed after a kiss on both their foreheads. He did the same, making sure the blanket was covering them one last time before sliding into his wife's open arms. Extinguishing the candle, he embraced her in the bed and she could barely hold back a snort. Although she was shorter than him, even the female soldier had to bend her knees to fit on the bed. Meanwhile, he had to completely curl up. The laugh curled at her lip and he kissed that smile.

Holding his hand, her thumb brushed over that ring because she could never get over it. He, in turn, brought the beautiful pale gold ring to his lips to press a kiss against it. His heartbeat - or was it hers? - pounded in her ears as it eventually slowed, reminding her of a tired horse's thumping beat.

"When you said you had managed to scrounge up two beds, I had thought they'd be more… adequately sized," she whispered and he sent her a playfully foul glance. "Not that I'm complaining," she added just to tease him more. The ship rose and fell as a wave swept underneath the creaking wood.

"Money cannot magically expand a wooden ship, _ma chérie_ ," the words vibrated near her ear in his throat more than it did escape through his mouth. It was so hard to be quiet…

"Oh, but you wish." He winced when she shifted. Wrapping her arms around him, she made more room and heard his slightly relieved sigh.

"If only I had you to myself tonight."

"You know just as well as I do that as soon as we learned that we were to have children, we would never have each other to just ourselves again." She reminded him and he nodded. "But," a slight smile again, "God, it was worth it." She thought of Emmeline's sparkling green eyes and Georges who had Lafayette's large smile.

"Indeed," he brushed his nose against her temple, eyes closing, "it was."

 _December 20, 1785_

Once they arrived, she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. While she knew France to be welcoming and warm according to many politicians, John Adams included, Genevieve found nothing of the sort. Even though the city was alive with men and women and children all going about their daily lives, she found everything… made her uncomfortable.

It was definitely not the fact that she barely knew French. Lafayette, after all, made it to where he was now through broken English and a determination that could not be diminished. Clearly, one could survive in a place where almost no one spoke their mother tongue.

It was most definitely the people. The hostility was not going unnoticed by them and only then did she realize being married to a man who led a revolution to overthrow one king would not be welcomed warmly by the citizens ruled by yet another. Something dropped in her gut, a horrible feeling that these next few years will not be as easy as they had wished.

Her two children were completely unsuspecting but she distanced herself from Lafayette. If politics were already in play and her husband was public enemy number one, then she'd have to play her cards carefully.

"Don't bother," she whispered when he tried to take her arm as they walked down the ramp. The water was a dark, unforgiving blue-green as fish in rough knotted rope nets flailed and thrashed. His eyes were full of confusion but she just gave a sharp, jerking shake of her head. "If we're to meet a King, I hate to say it, but politics is something that will determine life or death." A slight smile that only he saw, "Unfortunately, it isn't your forte."

"It's not yours either." He retorted swiftly.

"You grew up being an aristocrat, Lafayette but I've attended many meetings and such with the Schuyler sisters as an adult. I know enough - perhaps more than you do for once." Sure enough, but reluctantly, he pulled away. It continued in relative silence as Georges and Emmeline chattered, not really caring if they got a response.

As they passed by citizens with darkened masks and furrowed brows, she spotted him and Genevieve completely forgot what she had said only minutes before. Granted, it was for a good reason.

"Oh, my god. The rumours… they were correct?"

"I am sorry, this is not what I expected."

"Seeing as we saw Monticello, I have to say this _is_ what I expected if I knew he was the one we'd be meeting. It _is_ him, right?"

" _Oui._ And I may or may not have known already."

" _What?"_

"Washington recommended him. I'm sorry, I - I thought I mentioned this."

"Clearly you did not. I swear to God, if my children have to witness the violence I could possibly inflict on this man," she took in a deep breath from her rambling before muttering, "So God help me."

"What man, Papa?" Georges asked curiously and Lafayette smiled sheepishly.

"A friend," he answered, "I would appreciate it if you did not use such words in front of my children," the _marquis_ added to his wife who sent him a smoldering glower.

"I would appreciate it," she mocked, "if you did not keep secrets from me. And those are _my_ children, if you forgot who gave birth to them." Her foul mood was an unlucky combination of a slight cold, the need to regain land legs, and that the minister of France was already someone she felt like she would dislike when she saw what he was wearing.

These words were exchanged as they made their way towards the flamboyant, bright magenta-clad man who sported an expensive looking cane. Compared to all the whites, pastels and other more dull colours, the magenta really made him… a special flower indeed. Blinking, she tried to think that she imagined it.

"An honor to meet you, good sir," she plastered a pleasant smile on her face as he took her hand and kissed it just as she curtseyed. The lean man smiled crookedly before releasing it and shaking hands with Lafayette.

" _Monsieur_ and _Madame_ Lafayette. It's an honor to be in your presence," he said, laying it on thick and, Genevieve, already having zero tolerance, crossed her arms. The Virginian drawl still quite prominent in his French, the brunette found it hard to like the man. She understood that it was a joke, but _God,_ there were important things to do… like meeting with the King, getting to Paris, actually getting a decent night of rest. Despite what she felt, Lafayette clearly liked that he had found a friend in a hostile environment.

"Thomas."

"It's good to see you, Lafayette. Snagged yourself a wife, too, haven't you?"

Feeling irritated, she gave him her sweetest smile that hid a thinly-veiled threat. One that said, _Repeat that again and you'll find a bullet in your head._ The knife against her thigh pressed against her skin. She had not let the blade her husband had given her out of her sight since and she knew that it was just a layer of security that calmed her. "Of course he has. Although, it would do you some good if you learned that others have ears and opinions."

"Has a spirit, doesn't she? I believe my sources said your name was-

"Genevieve Alcott, formerly. Now the new _marquise_ de Lafayette. And if my deductions are correct," her tone was tired, bored, even, "you're Thomas Jefferson."

He gave her a half-assed bow before returning upright with a cocky smile.

She did not feel the need to acknowledge the gesture.

"Gen, he's the ambassador to France." Lafayette explained as though that would somehow change her opinion of him.

"Yes, I know. John Adams has briefed me on the comings and goings of such diplomatic affairs. In his last letter, he had mentioned that you had replaced Benjamin Franklin," she waved her hand as if it were nothing - as if the ties between an ordinary tavern owner's daughter and one of America's most influential people was commonplace. "Now," her tone was crisp, although a bit stuffy as Georges hid a smile in his mother's skirts because, really, this strange man's face was funny. "I believe a coach awaits?" Jefferson nodded, gesturing to the direction of the stables.

"This way." Genevieve nodded before smiling at her children.

"Emmeline, Georges, come on," she held out her hands and they each took one before they skipped along, their mother in between them. Jefferson, in step with Lafayette, watched with a bit of embarrassment.

"That is your first lesson in learning that my wife is my equal," Lafayette informed a bit cooly, "You do not treat her as an object that I had picked carelessly off a shelf." They arrived at the stables where a coachmen was grooming the horses. "You will be straightforward with my wife as you will be with me. She is not a simpleton, she is not one with an idle mind. You will treat her as an equal and if not, you will find a knife in your back very quickly." The insinuation could be taken literally or figuratively and Jefferson regarded his friend's wife with a slight bit of fear.

"I'm afraid my first chance is wasted." Jefferson replied tactfully, "But whatever the _marquis_ calls for, I will do. After all," there was a twinkle in his eyes, "why else would George Washington recommend me?"

"I'm already sick of you," he said frankly and the American let out a laugh. "My valet will bring the luggage after our trip - there is a long way ahead of us."

"Indeed," they reached the coach. Genevieve was watching her children talk to the coachmen but as the two men finally approached, she called them back. Jefferson opened the door for her with an unneeded sweep of the arm once again. Offering a hand, Thomas bowed slightly but Genevieve just took her children, hoisting them in first before hitching up her skirts and climbing in.

Jefferson's hand fell limp and he straightened up, staring after her. Lafayette could barely hold back a laugh as he climbed in beside her. Taking Emmeline into his lap just as Georges settled in his mother's lap, Lafayette leaned against the back of the coach, watching as Jefferson closed the door behind him and sat across from them. He adjusted his waistcoat, settling his cane beside him.

Straight to business.

"How bad is it, Thomas?"

Jefferson glanced out the window as the coach began to move with a slight jolt. The wheels clacked on the cobblestones and the horses let out whickers as the snap of the reigns echoed in their ears. The carriage shook slightly as they made their way out of the town. "How much have you heard?" He countered weakly. In a matter of moments, Thomas Jefferson seemed to age right before their very eyes. Genevieve wrapped her arms around Georges' middle.

"Enough to know that France is on the border of revolution," Genevieve said softly. "News doesn't travel quickly across the ocean but…"

"We've heard," Lafayette's hand sought hers and she gave it to him in comfort. "The unrest in the streets, how the king is spending more money than he has."

"We're in financial ruins." Thomas informed bluntly, "Supply and demand," a wave of the hand as he leans forward, elbows digging into his knees. "Prices are too high, the inability to trade as the money is worth nothing. People are starving; they are dying and they are angry. Who is there to blame?"

"The King," Lafayette sighed, rubbing his free hand over his face. His daughter listened although she could barely understand the exact situation.

"And we are summoned, why?" Genevieve asked. Despite her expecting Jefferson to answer, Lafayette did instead.

"The King has wanted me to return for some while - word had reached to him that I was newly wed and free to come back to my country. I was going to tell you… but the war was just won. And you-"

"I was pregnant," she said, understanding. She squeezed his hand. "The important thing is that we're here now." She turned to Jefferson. "We have one hell of a mess to try and clean up."

"Unfortunately," there was a grim smile that did not suit well on the ambassador's face, "the fuse is already lit. It's only a matter of time before blood will be shed." She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the long trip to Paris. Georges tugged at her hair lightly. "I'm sorry," it sounded genuine and she opened her eyes, giving him a tight smile although it looked more like her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Mama, you okay?" Her son inquired softly and she tried to smile but it came out feeling fake and unpleasant.

"Just fine," she lied, "We'll be just fine."

But when Lafayette met her eyes, even he could see how hollow her words were.

 **A/N: The beginning of ACT II y'all. And just like in the play, Thomas Jefferson appears! I'm sorry this update was late, I had a big project to do for school. Anyway, I'm really active on tumblr lately so if you guys wanna send writing prompts/requests then go for it through an ask.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: There's still some fluff ;)**

 **Guest: That's what I'm aiming to do. But thanks anyway for the review**

 **Strawberry Cat: Awh, that's extremely sweet of you to do! Thank you for enjoying this _that_ much.**


	20. Gerard

**Chapter 20: Gerard**

 _December 25, 1785_

They arrived early in the morning. Waking from a restless sleep, she raised her head from Lafayette's shoulder just as Georges stirred in her lap. Her little son yawned, thoroughly irritated from the lack of bed, food and warmth. Jefferson, her husband and her had chatted thoroughly into the night, the former updating the latter on the comings and goings of France.

Jefferson himself stretched, his legs twitching as if wanting to but the withering glare she sent him gave him pause. No way was she letting him taking up more space than his ego already did.

" _Bonjour,_ " her husband murmured sleepily and for a moment, it was as if all strife had been forgotten. His dark gaze met her green one and he pressed a gentle kiss on her brow. Clearing his throat of its hoarseness, he turned his attention to his still sleeping daughter. "Emmeline, _ma petite,_ wake up."

" _Cinq minutes de plus._ " She protested, golden-brown hair falling over her still closed eyes. Lafayette gave a defeated sigh, still too tired to argue as Jefferson opened the door. Springing out with the youth of someone who had not just been travelling in a cramped carriage for nearly a week, he took his cane and spun around with a wide smile.

"Paris, the city of love and lights." He announced almost proudly but it was anything but. Exiting the carriage, Lafayette carried his sleeping daughter as Genevieve helped her son down. The native Frenchman looked around, feeling his gut weighed down. It felt like it was not the same home he had left nearly a decade ago. Everything was drained of color and as the neighbors of the _rue Dauphine_ sent suspicious glowers or moved a little too hurriedly, Lafayette felt completely disjointed.

"I didn't know that was a new way of saying dreary, dreadful and just like a hungry wolf." Genevieve muttered, tugging at her dress as a citizen passed by one of them, sending them a wicked side-glance.

It was definitely not the same home. If he thought the port they had left the ship on was unfriendly, Paris was downright antagonistic. He couldn't help but agree with Genevieve. As a young boy, he knew that change was always unavoidable - both within him and in the city. And it was all true. He, after all, was returning after nearly a decade with a wife and two beautiful children. Now almost an American celebrity of sorts and in correspondence with some of the more powerful people in the growing country, he couldn't help but wonder if these friends would aid him in the coming explosion in the streets of Paris.

The city was just as Genevieve described it. Like a hungry wolf, it was waiting for just a tangible piece of meat before it snapped its jaws. Impatient, angry and defensive. Lafayette didn't want to be the one who had to subdue the forces when one thing gave way. He knew that as soon as one thing shifted, everything else would tumble down and that somehow, he would be dragged into it.

He just prayed his family could escape before blood could even touch the cobblestones of Paris.

They began to walk up the _rue Saint-Dominique_ as Jefferson prattled on. He strolled as if he were the one born here and his brilliantly colored clothes gave them the ability to see their 'guide' from mile away.

It seemed the life was sucked out of the city. As Genevieve admired the architecture of some of the buildings, pointing out to Georges some statues and such, Lafayette kept in pace with the minister.

"You are staying in town, I presume."

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes and Lafayette fought the same urge, " _Hôtel de Langeac, Avenue des Champs-Élysées_ on the right bank. Find me if you need me. Anyway, your audience with the king…"

"The day after tomorrow."

"He was generous to give you a day to rest. For all we know, he could've asked you to come immediately." He quipped. "I assume that you will brief me upon your return."

"As always," Lafayette, although didn't particularly liked him, admired how confident he was in such a virulent environment even though it bordered - most often crossing that line - on panache. _If only I could bolster myself the same way,_ he sighed.

"Is there anything we must address once we're there?" Genevieve entered their conversation, a raised eyebrow accompanied by a set jaw giving the impression that she did expect one. Jefferson looked on the other side of him, surprised.

"No." She visibly relaxed when Lafayette answered. "It is just audience. The King wants to know if I will overthrow him, no doubt." His arms ached to wrap around his wife but her previous words stayed in his mind. The fact that she was reserved, drawn away and on the other side of Jefferson made him already miss America where he could kiss and hold his wife whenever he pleased.

"Good. The children will be missing us." She nodded shortly though her eyes held his for just a moment longer. _We're almost there,_ _love,_ she seemed to say even though she barely knew this twisting, winding city of mazes. His shoulders relaxed. No matter what, his wife was on his side.

"Is there something I'm missing?" The minister inquired, puzzled. Throughout the whole trip, they had been relatively friendly - even sickly sweet in their romantics - what had changed?

"Absolutely not," Genevieve snapped frigidly although Lafayette couldn't tell if it was because of her genuine dislike for him or if she was that good of an actress. He favored the former.

"We're here." Lafayette paused, eyeing the house in the distance. A little white lie never did any harm. "Thank you for the escort, _Monsieur_ Jefferson. We can handle it from here."

"Of course. _Adieu,_ " he gave another bow full of éclat, hand extended to his side, the other to his chest as he almost bent in half. He hesitated before offering a hand in Genevieve's direction. Emmeline was beginning to stir as the ambassador kissed the woman's hand before spinning around.

"We will be in touch," Lafayette offered as a farewell and they watched until the Virginian was nothing more than a speck of blinding magenta.

"Papa _, où sommes-nous?"_

"Home," he said softly. Genevieve sent him an inquisitive look. Now that there were less people around them, she could let her guard down. "At least, in the next two blocks." Together, they walked towards the _Hôtel de_ Lafayette that he had left long ago. It was still all brilliant architecture and white pillars, all hedges kept in shape and bushes full of flowers past their bloom. "Do not tell your sister about here." He begged playfully over her shoulder and she sent him a bright smile that reached her cheeks.

It was a sight for sore eyes. "Why? Because she'll know I live in what looks like a _palace?_ " Georges ran up to his father, tugging on his trousers.

"Papa, is this _ours_?" He asked, eyes wide as the _marquis_ gestured for Genevieve to take Emmeline. Doing so, the brunette watched him take out a slim key, shiny with disuse. Slipping it into the lock, he twisted the knob before ushering his son in.

"Yes, now wipe your feet and take off your _chaussures._ " He prompted. Genevieve stroked her daughter's hair, keeping her in her arms as she nudged the door closed behind her and slipped off her heels. Feet aching, she sighed when it touched the cold tile. Behind closed doors, she finally allowed herself to relax completely.

"Put me down, Mama," Emmeline hid her question in an order and, laughing slightly, Genevieve set her daughter down on the stairs as Georges ran ahead.

"It's so big here!" He yelled and this time, Lafayette chuckled. Slipping into her husband's arms, the _marquise_ sighed and kissed his jaw.

"I think they will like it here, if only for a little while." She mused aloud. "Emmeline might need some help but she'll learn to love it too." Her daughter walked after her little brother, steps slower as she slowly woke from her sleep.

"I hope so. It's good to be home… yet I feel like this hasn't been mine for a long time." She let her eyes flutter shut as he guided her through the hall.

"That apartment was home for a long time." She whispered and he nodded.

" _Monsieur Lafayette!"_ A stern voice yelled and Lafayette winced, a sheepish smile replacing his serious mask. " _Ou as-tu? Sont-ils tes enfants?"_ A hurried man came down the hall with the twins trailing behind him. He was dressed in a dark waistcoat and a white shirt underneath.

"Gerard, _je suis ici._ " Her husband called and the man came over. "It is good to see you." Gerard took the towel that was laid over one shoulder and slapped Lafayette's arm. "Ow!" Georges giggled, walking over to his father and hugging his leg.

" _Tu as fui à un autre pays! Je suis furieux, monsieur!_ "

"Sorry, sorry!" Lafayette put up his hands in defence when Gerard battered his forearms. Genevieve, meanwhile, couldn't stop the peals of laughter as Emmeline ran towards his mother. She stifled her laughs when Lafayette sent her a half-glare. "Genevieve, this is Gerard. The man who essentially raised me since my parents passing. Gerard," a proud smile, "this is my wife."

"Genevieve," extending a hand, she hugged Emmeline towards her on instinct.

" _Monsieur_ Lafayette has told me a lot about you - not enough it seems." Another glare at his former ward but this time it was more playful. The butler took her hand, bowed and kissed her knuckles.

"Well, Lafayette hasn't told me anything about you so he's in even more trouble." Emmeline marched up to Gerard, deeming him to be a friend and she picked up the ends of her skirts and curtseyed clumsily.

" _Bonjour, je m'appelle_ Emmeline." Georges watched his older sister as Gerard crouched down. Genevieve found it endearing how shy her son was. "Georges, come!" Reluctantly, he joined his sister and together they started introducing themselves.

"Was this supposed to be a surprise?" She murmured to her husband who tilted his head to listen to her. Her fingers flitted across his stubbled jaw and a tender expression crossed both of their faces. Eyes at half-mast, she kissed his lips. Drawing away, she gave him a smile that she only reserved for him and hugged him closer.

"Perhaps," he mused softly and she tucked her head into the crook of his neck. "Come on, let's get something to eat." They started off after their children and Gerard who had taken off already.

.

After a quick dinner which Gerard had prepared - much to their chagrin - the two parents slid into bed. "Are you sure it'll be okay?" He looked down at her from where she was tucked in towards his chest. The warm meal settled comfortably in her stomach and she felt exhausted.

"No, not really." He said honestly, "but we will pull through. I'll miss the few hours you are kind to me," he tried to tease but it came off weak. It wasn't that she was unkind, it was more that she was dismissive. Only time would tell if her act would work, especially on the monarchy. If it appeared that she was detached and only cared about her children, perhaps then his family would be safe. No matter what he did, they were out of harm's way.

God, he despised the game of lies and bluffs and he knew that his wife did too, no matter how much she enjoyed it at times.

"I'm sorry," she rasped, "I hate politics sometimes." He brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"I know, but Emmeline and Georges need to be safe. They need to grow up and enjoy the fruits of our labour."

"But if we didn't have our children-"

"Never say that," he admonished. A guilty expression crossed her face before dissolving.

"You know what I meant." Her breaths puffed across his collarbone as she came closer. "I could support you, stand by your side. I love our children, with all my heart, I do. But that means my priority isn't you anymore - it's them - and I hate it."

"Your priority should never have been me, _mon amour._ " This time, a slight chuckle reverberated in her throat.

"Has yours always been me before the children were born?" She challenged playfully and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, not answering. "Exactly. I just wish things were different. That this revolution wouldn't end in bloodshed but I know it will. If things were different..."

"They will be," a hopeful smile tugging at his lip, "I have to believe in such otherwise there is no hope at all."

"Your optimism, She sighed, closing her eyes as the soft footsteps in the hall echoed. "It never ceases to amaze me." Gerard was probably making sure the twins were sleeping. The man stopped at their door and they raised their heads when he knocked.

" _Madame et monsieur?_ "

"Come in," the grey-haired man came in, a lit candle in a metal holder. Lafayette raised his head wearily. The _château_ , although normally vacant, was now full of life despite only five occupants. The smell of cooked meat filled the house as well as soap from when Genevieve had bathed her children. Gerard, still dressed in his black vest, gave a tired smile.

"I am sorry to bother you but _mademoiselle_ Emmeline is putting up a fuss. She still is not asleep and _monsieur_ Georges won't sleep until his sister is as well." Genevieve sighed, kissing her husband and getting up. The warm duvets slipped off her nightgown and she rubbed her arms. Despite some of the fires in the house, she still felt the chill pierce her shift. Lafayette sat up, watching as Genevieve went over to Gerard.

"I'll be back in no time," she promised before closing the door behind her.

"Is _monsieur_ Lafayette not accompanying us?" Gerard asked, a bit puzzled. At Genevieve's own confused look, he explained, "He informed me in one of his letters that each child has their own parent they favour."

"When they are having trouble sleeping, I fear Lafayette isn't skilled in that department. After all, some things only a mother can do." She gave the butler a warm smile before entering the room her children were in. Sitting down on Emmeline's bed, she stroked her daughter's golden-brown hair before humming a gentle melody. Georges, already adoring Gerard, allowed the man to pick him up and bring him over to his mother.

"Mama, I do not like where we are." Emmeline whimpered and Genevieve bent down to kiss her forehead. "I want to go home."

" _This_ is our new home." She murmured, fully understanding her daughter's plight, "I'm not used to it either. Do you think if I sing, it will make you feel better?" Nodding at Gerard as a dismissal, she waited until he was gone and the door was nearly shut before turning to look at Georges in her lap who obstinately refused to let his eyes shut.

"I want to see Uncle Bennett," Georges mumbled, fist rubbing at his eyes. Feeling exhaustion weaved into her bones, she realized that the homesickness couldn't be cured by just a simple lullaby. Getting an idea, she rose. Cradling her son to her chest, she picked up her daughter haphazardly who wrapped her arms instinctively tight around her mother's neck.

"You two are a handful, quite literally," she muttered, nudging the door open with her foot as the twins just mumbled incoherently. They hadn't slept together in one big bed since the children were about a year and a half but this was an exception. Moving an ocean over seemed acceptable enough a reason.

The door to their room was still open and Genevieve pushed it open and let her children down on the bed. Emmeline crawled toward Lafayette who was still awake. The _marquis_ picked up his daughter as Genevieve closed the door and crawled back into bed. Placing Georges in the space between their big bed, she pulled the covers up as Emmeline joined her brother in between her parents.

" _Bonne nuit_ ," Emmeline murmured out of habit and curled in toward her brother who cuddled against his mother. Lafayette stretched an arm across them and hugged Genevieve whose legs tangled with his. In the end, they were all just a big exhausted mess trying to sleep.

" _Bonne nuit_ ," three tired voices chorused back as finally, sleep was casted upon them.

 **A/N: Hello! This update came much later than I expected and now I'm like really tired so I'll answer guest reviews next chapter, argh, sorry! Thank you to all your support it really meas so much to me! Until next time!**


	21. Versailles

**Chapter 21: Versailles**

 _December 27, 1785_

The Palace of Versailles was something almost out of a fairy tale if it weren't so garish and the country wasn't so reeked with poverty and squalor. The Lafayettes had gone through the gardens that were gigantic and absolutely ostentatious with golden fountains and statues alike. Genevieve couldn't help but wonder how many _livres_ invested in the gardens alone could have gone toward the people of France.

Wearing a simple but lovely pale dress that reached her wrists as her arm looped through her husband's, Genevieve followed the majordomo up the steps and into the grand palace. Even in the main hall, she knew that the _château_ was far bigger than she could even imagine. She wondered whether or not it was ever full.

Past the ballrooms and numerous staircases and rooms and even a theatre, the three of them finally reached the ceremonial hall. Lafayette stiffened, clearly recognizing the doors and she gave the slightest squeeze. Not one the guards could realize as friendly but just enough to know that she was at his side.

If only she could stand closer to Lafayette, to feel his warmth seep into her bones and stave off her own worry. With all the political experience under her corset, she still couldn't bring herself to stop imagining what could possibly happen, or go wrong.

But every intention was made clear in the language of movement. Lafayette let out a small breath, one indiscernible by everyone except her, as if to brace himself as the doors began to open. Despite everything, she tried to imagine her two children who were still with Gerard back at the _Hôtel. God, give us the courage and pray that we don't overstep,_ she let her eyes close for a second before opening them.

The doors opened to reveal long, narrow room with the same prolific ambiance of the gardens before. The majordomo stepped inside and to the right, sweeping an arm back and with a leg bent behind the other, bowing deeply to the two figures at the end of the room.

" _Monsieur le marquis de_ Lafayette," suddenly her head felt light. From across the room she could feel the burning stares of the ladies-in-waiting and butlers, but more than that, she could feel the scathing sensation that stemmed from two pairs of eyes that sat atop the thrones, " _et sa femme, la marquise._ "

The hall was full of windows and light as the weak sun's rays shone through and reflected off the crystal chandeliers. The long glass, some stained, some not, lit the gold on fire and the red velvet carpet seemed to glow like the sun as it laid atop the mosaics. The curtains, thick, luxurious and intricate in detail, were drawn back with golden tassels and if they were anywhere else, Genevieve would've loved to run her hands through the fabric and explore every inch of this single room. Instead, her blood froze.

Barely registering that it was her cue to move, Genevieve felt her legs move robotically under her dress. Not taking her eyes off the two monarchs, she clamped down on Lafayette's arm and he didn't even wince.

Granted, he was already holding his breath and it wasn't because of how tightly his tailcoat was buttoned up, the golden buttons clasped firmly around his neck.

King Louis XVI of France and his Austrian queen watched as they slowly progressed down towards them. The monarchs scanned their figures, their dress, and their etiquette with a poisonous eye as the patriots finally stopped a respectful distance away.

Genevieve prayed that what she was wearing was appropriate. Lafayette had seemed to think so. It was expensive, she knew even without her husband telling her when he had brought it home fresh from the tailor yesterday, but with his reassurance that it would not outshine anything the King and Queen would wear.

And did the two monarchs look lavishly beautiful in white and gold draping fabrics. The King, silver draping sleeves and heavy ermine coat with his coat of arms embroidered in the other side, was decidedly flushed and with enough meat around his neck and in his cheeks to feed one small and incredibly famished child. He sat there, scepter in hand as his beady little eyes stared at the _marquis._ Genevieve only stared. Never had she seen someone so ridiculously dressed yet possessing such dignity in his appearance.

Then again, this was the King.

Lafayette bowed, nearly cinching himself in the waist as he kept his whole body taut. Tension radiated off of him in waves and Genevieve mirrored his manners, curtseying as deep as she could. It was something she had never seen before nor had done in her life. America, newly liberated and lax on propriety even before that time, would have called the courtly bow Lafayette was using strange and the deep curtsey she was holding for what seemed like hours slightly preposterous even if elegant.

King Louis looked somehow much older than his thirty-one years, much older than Lafayette would in three years time and held a smile that looked completely fake yet held its own merit of realism.

Her husband said something but she didn't hear it. What she did hear, though, as she stared at the red velvet under her heels, was the voice of the King. "Rise." Rising in synchronization, Genevieve finally allowed herself to watch the Queen as the King seemed to nod slightly in approval.

Marie-Antoinette, Austrian born and raised, was all porcelain skin caked in powder, rosy cheeks and mousy brown hair piled atop her head as off-white feathers on an intricate silver hairpiece wilted gracefully. Her eyes, decidedly bigger than her husband's, were narrowed as her dark brows arched in an unnamed expression. She was not as easily pleased, straight-backed and the very definition of pride in her slight smirk that inhabited her neutral mask.

Despite that, Genevieve realized that they weren't untouchable. The mere thought of the blade strapped to her thigh calmed her rapid heart. Although the absolute hatred in her gaze - as they warned by Jefferson for their American exploits - from the Queen, Genevieve felt calm wash over her. Angelica's words echoed in her mind as she took the deepest breath she could without giving it away.

" _Not everyone's untouchable. A cool head can go a long way when you are speaking to someone with more power than you can ever imagine. And a woman tends to be so unsuspecting that before they even know it, you can hold all the cards."_

" _Monsieur_ and _Madame_ _de_ Lafayette, how considerate of you to be here so soon." The King again, offering the kindest words that would probably be said today. Genevieve, bless the Lord, felt the very refreshing lessons of French Gerard had all but drilled into her head. With every word the butler had said, memories of her own mother teaching her had flooded back.

"It is an honour, your majesty. The regret is that I could not have made haste sooner." Keeping the blank expression upon her face, she watched carefully as Lafayette appealed to his King. "I was extremely preoccupied as I made the journey from America. Many thanks for your patience."

"And what was the cause of this?" The Queen asked, almost too courteously. Genevieve saw how the King watched his wife, showing no distaste yet holding no love or interest. "We are, however, extremely pleased nonetheless," the use of the word was never more falsely used, "that the coups and rebellions against royalists have not stalled you forever." A cruel chuckle. "However, it is to our knowledge that your little mutiny had ended nearly three years ago."

Whatever response Lafayette had built melted away in his mouth. He spared a glance at the brunette beside him and Genevieve had to will herself not to look at him. Taking a deep breath and sending a prayer to every single God, even the ones she knew didn't exist, she spoke.

"The _marquis_ and I met before the war. I would say that I was the cause of his delay as he seeked my hand, although if the time was ill spent," a side glance to her husband who was regarding her with discomfort. Carefully impartial, her words conveyed neither pleasure nor displeasure as her French held steady, "that is up to him to decide." A smile towards the monarchs, one as if completely genuine unless you were one who knew her well. In this case, it was Lafayette.

"Genevieve Alcott, the new _marquise de_ Lafayette." Genevieve decided to disregard the fact that the Queen had called her the 'new' one, as if Lafayette had time to marry another woman. "I must admit, you were not what I expected when Minister Jefferson had spoken of an American woman." She was unsure if that was an insult or compliment. "Though, do tell me, are you arranged to marry as many women of Europe are?"

Success. Exactly what they wanted the monarchs to think.

Yet...

The silence could have allowed one to hear a mouse shuffle across the shining floor as Genevieve felt her throat constrict. It's what she had planned, yet saying those words out loud caused pangs in her core. The quiet began to grow, trying to choke the life out of her. "Do women grow to love the husbands they were assigned to?" She countered at last. Not a denial nor an affirmation. "I was merely a tavern owner's daughter. Should someone as rich and powerful as the _marquis_ choose me to be his bride, then who am I to refuse?" The implications behind her words were devastating.

The shock that radiated from her husband caused regret to well in her soul for every single word, she wanted to take back. With one quick glance at her stock-still husband, one that said, _You know that I married you for who you are and not for what you have,_ Genevieve returned her gaze to the thrones, expecting to find a burning stare drilling into her skull. But Her Majesty was taking in her words, mulling them over as they were delivered without hesitation and without a shakiness that could not be accounted to her disfluency in the language.

Doubtful words sounded differently than that of lack of practice.

"I see." A smile, a smirk, a sneer. All looked the same on that woman's face as she nodded, gleaning from the information Genevieve had falsely put out, "Yes, us women have to sacrifice a great many things to go far in this time. Don't you agree?"

Readily: "Of course, your Majesty."

The King took this pause in between the two women to interject, "Lafayette," he raised his head, "I must admit that you have picked well. We were skeptical at the first mention of you marrying an American." The King squeezed his scepter tighter, whether on habit or on purpose, Genevieve was unsure. "Now that we see her in person, we can finally match words to a face and a pretty one indeed." Lafayette stiffened more, if that was even possible, "Your decision, while bewildering and slightly offensive, is less so in our eyes."

 _Offensive, how? Because he couldn't find a decent woman in Paris?_ Genevieve thought sourly. _With you running the show, I can see why so many of them are not._ She thought back to the kind girls and boys she had seen just yesterday in the streets. Hopefully the next generation will be happier than theirs. Shoving down her feelings, she only gave a polite smile as Lafayette nodded, "Thank you, your Majesty."

"We wish you and your wife all the happiness." Despite the compliment, it sounded forced between gritted teeth.

"Thank you, your Majesties." He repeated, "And to you as well. May the good tides of fortune fall on your shoulders." Genevieve wanted to raise a disbelieving eyebrow and when she glanced at the Queen, the exact expression was mirrored in her face. _That's laying it a bit thick, love,_ she thought, bemused despite their situation. Marie-Antoinette raised her chin slightly, as Lafayette bowed. The brunette may have been inexperienced with a royal court - the only 'Excellence' she ever had to address was George Washington and he was already an acquaintance - but then again, it could've been her husband trying to gain the King's favour.

"I'm sure you will show your gratitude through your service to our country," Louis remarked and Lafayette agreed. "Have you turned your attention to the circumstances surrounding Paris?" A sharp nod.

"Of course, your Majesty." Lafayette affirmed, "I have been giving the subject my undivided attention."

"A generous thing to say for a husband and father of two children." The Lafayettes froze. Their children could not be brought into this. Genevieve stiffened, out of the corner of her eye watching Lafayette's face twitch. _I have to think fast_. The Queen, triumphant, had that twist on her lips where one was unsure whether it was a smile or a smirk once again. "How old are they? Four?" The Queen must've intentionally gotten it wrong because when Genevieve looked into her eyes, she knew the truth.

"Three," the brunette corrected anyway, voice level. And she forced every feeling behind her eyes as she offered a small smile.

"Darling things, are they not? It seems family and politics are not so distant as they seem. Heat flared in her, like her blood was warming in the morning sun. The King himself looked away from his wife as Marie-Antoinette cocked her head just so. "Amusing, _non?_ That despite your husband's 'undivided' attention, he seems to have enough time to form a family in how long? Less than a year?"

Genevieve could not find the heart in her to reply. Jefferson had informed the two of them of the rumors that had swept over France - cruel myths of the monarchy's infertility no doubt due to the amount of time it took to have an heir presented to their country. The King was obviously embarrassed and the two could hardly blame him.

"Yes," she finally croaked. "But other than that, politics is at the forefront of his mind," the distaste in her voice wasn't fake at all as she directed the attempt at dispelling the tension at Marie-Antoinette. Again, what she didn't say said more than what she did and the Queen leaned back, nodding.

" _Le marquise_ _de_ Lafayette, you have served your King's interests dutifully, no matter how unorthodox your methods." Turning to his hostile wife slightly, Louis continued, "He has unshackled America from England's hold and in doing so, has secured us an invaluable ally. He remains as faithful to France as we are now." Returning to Lafayette, he gave a curt nod, "I trust that we can rely on you to prove my words true, _monsieur._ "

"Of course, your Majesty. I am your obedient servant, as I always was."

"Only time will tell," the poison decreased in potency as the King waved a hand, "We will speak again soon, _monsieur le marquise._ "

"I look forward to that honour, your Majesty." They bowed and curtsied once more before turning around the room. Lafayette offered his arm to his wife who took it and as soon as they made it out of the long room, she stepped closer to him. The entrance was emptier, presumably because the monarchs were now leaving. Guards were nowhere in sight.

Letting out a breath, she wiped her hands in her dress as Lafayette brought her into a tight hug. Instinctively embracing him around his waist, she could hear his pounding heart under his ear. "Just by the trim of my skirt, that audience," she whispered and his chest rumbled with a laugh that, although shaky, was genuine and filled her with warmth.

"It went better than expected," he admitted and she pressed a chaste kiss against his jaw before splitting up. "Home?"

"Definitely - before anyone notices that I'm irrevocably in love with you."

 **A/N: Anyone else swamped as school draws to a close? Just me? Anyway, I have a few new ideas for the next Hamilton fic I'm gonna write. Poll is up on my profile.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: TBH, I'm always sleep deprived so it's okay! Everything should be in historical order so nothing happened at the Palace of Versailles yet! Thank you for being so enthusiastic about my story though!**

 **Strawberry the cat: Thank you for using your actual acc to follow this story! It means so much to me and I hope this little fluff in the end was enough to make up for the chapter.**

 **TabbyCat: Thank you!**


	22. Correspondence

**A/N: Read author's note below.**

* * *

 **Chapter 22: Correspondence**

 _March 18, 1786_

Bennett tore open the letter carefully with a knife, making sure none of the contents were damaged before taking out the long letter. Setting the knife down on the counter, he took out the letter and smiled slightly when he saw it in his sister's writing. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he unfolded the letter slowly and began to read.

 _Dear Bennett,_

 _You think yourself funny teasing me about my inability to speak French. However, the joke's on you because Gerard, the very friendly butler of Lafayette's is teaching me quite well and I can recall our mother's lessons easily._

 _So… hah._

 _Anyway, the children are doing fine, surprisingly, and my husband isn't in too much stress. The politics of this world is different than America. Stiffer, more etiquette is needed, the people here are slightly outrageous…_

 _I could go on and on but for now, we're enjoying a life together despite the prices that are nearing the top of the sky and the poverty-reeked streets. Did you know that Emmeline knows how to count in both languages now? Not very high, but up to five is still enough. She's very proud of it, reciting it into the night. And Georges, I've never seen a little boy more steady on his feet. Dare I say it, he'll make a wonderful soldier should the career call to him._

 _I hope it doesn't. Despite what I say, Ben, blood will be shed. The people are angry and the monarchy isn't doing anything to help. I know you're older now but I can't stop thinking you as my little brother. So please, don't ask if you can help. Don't try and come here. You still aren't a soldier, you never were one. You are our father's son. Ettie is our father's daughter._

 _I'm not._

 _A domestic life was never an answer I'd settle for. For some reason, I still search for danger unconsciously and sometimes, truthfully, it's terrible. But sometimes, it's amazing. It's how I found Lafayette; how you have a niece and nephew as well as an older brother._

 _So I'm waiting for the danger because I never want that on anyone else._

 _I'm not saying I'm better than you because I'm not. You're talented and kind and capable in your own way because you took Joan in* when she had nowhere else to go. You help our father when I can't. You ran a busy tavern by yourself at fifteen. What I'm saying is we're built differently._

 _I'm not saying I'm selfless like you are or kind like you are but I try to be pretty damn close. I'm not saying that I can be as care-free as Ettie or that I can just see the light in everything like she does but I attempt to be as optimistic as I can - I fail quite often._

 _What I'm saying is that I'm not our father's child. Perhaps I'm our mother's._

 _You didn't get to know her, but I did, and even though I forget a tiny fraction of her every day, I feel like this is something she would've done. I'd like to think our mother is glad that although I married the man I've fallen in love with, I haven't put my whole life on hold just to cater his needs. In heaven, I hope she's happy that I chose someone who respects me and loves me and asks for my opinion like it's the most important thing in the world. I think she'd be happy that I'm doing what I want and with the motives she taught me._

 _And as a secret between you and me, I bet she would've encouraged my act to join the army. Just a thought. As you can guess, she was a woman of virtues and did not tolerate nonsense. She wanted to fight for what's right._

 _In the beginning, there was a reason I sat down to write this letter. I was just going to tell you that I'm fine and that you don't need to worry. But as I sit at the plantation my husband bought and watch the men and women out there happily working for him because he is paying them handsomely and their families are well-cared for, it somehow spiralled into this.**_

 _And I just think… despite everything, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now._

 _From where we started, under the British rule, to where we are, though split apart by an ocean; we're happy. I hope you are, at least._

 _Ben, there are so many things I have to say that I wish I could in person. But God has directed my path to France and it is where I will stay until the danger has passed. Because my career as a soldier hasn't quite ended yet nor do I have the intention of just letting my husband do the work. So I chose what I wanted to say and wrote it down in this letter because we don't have time anymore. It's slightly bittersweet because I've always been by your side and now, I'm not. I haven't been for a long time and I'll always regret that._

 _I knew what I was giving up on ten years ago and yet it still affects me today. I miss you so much. Give my regards to Papa, Ettie, Joan, Ollie - everyone at the tavern._

 _Your sister,_

 _Genevieve; January 29, 1786_

 _April 29, 1786_

 _She would've been proud of Ettie and I, but she would've been proudest of you, my dearest sister. God built you differently because you were destined to help so many more people than I could ever dream of. I love you so much, stay safe because I never want to lose you. If… if I lose you, I don't think any of us will ever be the same. Because we could've stopped you and you would be alive._

 _So please, as one last favor to your little brother, stay alive._

 _Ben; March 18, 1786_

Genevieve set down the short letter and closed her eyes, rubbing them tiredly as Georges waddled in. He was wearing one of Lafayette's shirts, a one he had somehow gotten into and it was hanging so loosely on his frame he almost tripped over the fabric that dragged across the floor. Picking up her son, she hugged him close.

Watching her husband in the study across the hall, she frowned slightly at the half-closed door before bringing her son to the drawing room. Emmeline was with Gerard, tapping one finger against the piano keys, and sending the older man a smile, she set down her son next to his older sister and sat down on the couch.

"Did your brother respond, _madame?_ " Gerard inquired courteously and she nodded. "I presume all is well."

"He didn't say. Just said that he wants me alive by the end of the day." She said bluntly and he let out a chuckle. "What is Lafayette doing in the study?" At this, the manservant's smile dimmed.

" _Le marquis_ is reading more of Rousseau and Montesquieu. _Monsieur_ Jefferson is coming to visit tomorrow morning."

"Oh, don't remind me," she sighed, rolling her shoulders. "That man… I wonder where on Earth he gained his sense of fashion or," she scrunched up her nose, "if he gained it at all." Laughing, Gerard stood near her, watching the children carefully as did she.

" _Monsieur et madame_ Adams are also arriving for dinner."

"And _Madame de_ Staël _?_ " Genevieve prompted. "I like that woman." Gerard nodded, a slight smile reappearing once more.

"And she returns the amity. Along with _comte de Clermont-Tonnerre_ ,"

"Good. A few friendly faces is what I need." Glancing at the time, she stood and turned to the staircase, glancing over her shoulder. "Do you think there's time before supper for a snack?" He cocked his head in amusement, "I believe my husband's been in there since luncheon. A little sunlight and time with his family will do him some good."

"Then a late supper will be of no trouble. Where do you wish to go, _madame la marquise?_ " He asked and she began to climb up the stairs, intent to go to her room.

"Just to the backyard. Prepare a basket of a few fruits and sweets for the children. I'm just going to go change. Then we can basically drag my husband out of that dark, dreary room." With a wink, she reached the top before running into their room and peeling the dress off. Slipping on a pair of trousers and a loose shirt, she pulled her hair out from under the neckline and tied it up.

Whisking down the stairs, she entered her husband's study after a warning knock, scrunching up her nose when the smell of dusty books and paper reached her nose. "Take a break, Lafayette," she chastised softly. Standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he leaned into her.

"What time is it?" He mumbled, reaching up to scratch his eye before blinking blearily at his hand. Ink was splattered across his skin. Putting down his writing utensil, Lafayette yawned.

"Nearly a quarter to six. It's the twenty-ninth, in case you don't remember the date in this dark room. You've been in here for hours," was the quiet answer and he pulled away from her grasp and stood. The chair rocked back but Genevieve kept it upright as he stretching. Trying to catch his gaze, she looked up at him as he barely spared her a glance. "Lafayette, is everything alright?"

" _Oui,_ " he replied shortly and tiredly. "Where are the children?" Frowning, she watched as he closed a book and turned to her. He pecked his wife on the forehead with a slight, heavy smile.

"In the drawing room." Her hand reached up to touch him but he brushed past her instead. "Gerard is preparing a picnic basket!" She called after his retreating figure but he gave no sign of hearing her, running a hand through his hair in a jerky, frustrated motion. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine." She mumbled sardonically before turning to his desk. Papers full of half-comprehensible notes met her eyes. Raking her gaze over the other contents, she saw the day's newspaper, some writings from the philosophes and letters.

Among them all was a sketch of a beautiful woman. In her likeness Genevieve saw Lafayette's own features and therefore features reflected in her own children. Picking up the sketch, she brushed a hand over the old, yellowing paper. Underneath was a caption that read:

 _Marie Louise Jolie de La Rivière, la marquise de Lafayette_

Now understanding who she was, Genevieve smiled at the picture. _Thank you for giving the world an incredible man and an even more magnificent husband._ She thanked internally before settling the sketch back down. In the process, her hand brushed against a paper trapped in between a thick, heavy book.

Tugging at it out of curiosity, she unfolded it carefully and started when her green eyes landed on the elegant script of her husband's in French. Deciphering what she could, she felt her heart drop into her gut.

… _I'm sorry, Mother but I've been so busy… France is on the verge of war… you always said I was destined for something great and now I wish I wasn't… I have a beautiful wife and children…_

 _I wish you were here to see it. I'll visit soon enough, Mother because I've been shoving you and Father and Uncle aside… I love you… I miss you… time has slipped through my fingers like sand and I want your guidance, yet I know I cannot have it._

… _I hope, that at least, I have made you proud..._

 _Your son,_

 _Lafayette_

Settling the letter back on the desk, she stared at the sketch again with renewed admiration. _You should be proud of him,_ madame _Lafayette,_ she turned, exiting the study and closing the door before finding that her children were no longer in the drawing room. Laughter signified that they were now in the backyard but as she went to the room where they previously were to clean up after them, she found him sitting down on the piano bench, half-tapping the keys.

"Lafayette…" the tone in her voice; he could always read her like an open book so when she sat beside him, hands resting on the white keys as well, he just sighed. "It's not your fault. You've been busy." He was quiet for a long time and she waited patiently.

"April third," he said and she nodded, pressing her fingers down to fill the silence. Looking at the shadows casted over the pearl white, she interested herself in the deep sound of the instrument as he added, "August first,"*** He laughed - a bitter laugh that did not suit him. It made her look at him with a tint of sympathy despite her not wanting to. "It's stupid. I only knew my father for two years yet I miss him all the same." Taking his hand to stop the tapping of keys, she cupped his jaw with the other.

"It isn't," she told him firmly. "I only knew my mother for nine years. My brother only knew her for two and he barely remembers her. My sister never even met her. Does that mean we don't miss her because of all the time loss? Of course not, because others keep her memory alive. You know," a quirk of the lip and he mimicked it. Relieved to see a glimmer of his usual self, she stroked his cheek, "those who have left are never truly gone."

Lafayette had now regained at least a bit of his usual happiness because he quipped, "When did you get so wise?" Kissing his cheek and bopping his nose, she sprung up and tugged him along. Laughing, she stopped at the door to the backyard as he crashed into her. Leaning against the frame of the door, she just smiled up at him.

"Aren't you always saying how clever I am?" A chuckle rumbled in his chest and she sobered. "You can talk to me about anything, alright? Even if… even if you think I won't care. I will because it's about you." He nodded and when she leaned up for a kiss, he gladly gave it to her.

 _June 9, 1786_

 _Dearest John,_

 _How is your newest plan to abolish slavery? Since Alexander has too much free time on his hands, I'm assuming that he's helping you in your endeavor? I hope so, and if he isn't, a stern word from me is directed his way._

 _But how is Peggy? She is not one to stand down easily yet I haven't heard from her recently nor have I heard_ of _her. Is she alright?_

 _To answer your questions: No, France is not some territorial war zone where the people wield torches constantly. They don't poke others with pitchforks either. Think of it as… as Valley Forge but instead of it being physical, it is mental. You can see how hostile the environment is and the politics are messily enough as it is._

 _It's not fun - I can hear you snickering from across the ocean._

 _However, France is beautiful. In the spring, the flowers are blooming, and Emmeline and Georges are growing with every passing day. Soon we will have to hire tutors for them - they're becoming quite a handful as if they weren't already and we are afraid that they'll eventually cause Gerard's death one day. They cause too much trouble for their own good. It's fortunate for them that I love them more than most things in this world/_

 _Yours,_

 _Genevieve; May 1, 1786_

 _June 30, 1786_

 _Genevieve,_

 _If anything, Alexander has not enough free time with the amount of children him and Eliza are conceiving. Not to be crass but they already have three children. Three! And now they're planning on demon number four and if I have to take care of them one more time, I will lose my mind._

 _The worst, yet best part of it all is that Peggy herself is pregnant. Only six months along at the time of this letter. Of course, I'm elated beyond words that we're to have our own child but I have doubts that I'll be a good father. After all, my father doesn't support the fact that I am an abolitionist nor does he like it that I don't do as he says almost all the time. He wasn't the best example of a good father._

 _I have a stinking suspicion that I'll royally screw up and I am using every prayer I know in hopes that I won't._

 _Please, if you get a hold of him, ask Lafayette how he does it with two of them? When I had looked towards him, he had always had one of them in his arms and his full attention directed to them. It looks so effortless for him._

 _Yours,_

 _John; June 12, 1786_

 _P.S. France sounds lovely. Perhaps we should all reunite one day when one of us isn't stuck in a revolution in the making._

Genevieve laughed, setting down the letter again. It had fueled her want to write again as she turned back to her response.

 _John,_

 _You are joking, right? That's absolutely fantastic news! I know that when I told Lafayette, he nearly jumped to the second story out of happiness. He's going to be an uncle, he said. I had to remind him that Eliza already has three children and that he was already an uncle._

 _Give Peggy my regards and make sure she gets my letter! It's full of suggestions to help with the baby because, trust me, you will lose many nights over this._

 _Now, John, we both know that those are the nerves talking. You're already an excellent uncle and you're amazing with children. Those doubts will disappear as soon as you hold your newborn child. You will do fine and if you don't trust me, ask anyone around you. They will say the same thing._

 _John, you will do anything but screw up. And your child will be blessed to have a huge family who loves them. I envy that - we only have us. But sometimes, that's enough. Some men are born to be fathers, and despite your initial reaction to holding a child for the first time, I know you're going to be one of those men._

 _Now, go tend to your pregnant, and probably irritated wife as I don't want to be on the receiving end of a harsh letter dictating that I was the one who took away your attention. I miss you all._

 _Genevieve; June 30, 1786_

Putting it to the side to let the ink dry, she turned to Angelica's letter. Like her brother-in-law, it was almost like the woman could never stop herself from writing essays. However, a fond smile found its way to her lips and she slowly took the first page, absorbing the slanted black writing in all its glory before beginning to read.

 **A/N: HELLO! Sorry I haven't replied to basically any reviews but thank you so much for reviewing anyway! Poll is still up if you want to vote on my next story! I love y'all kids so much. Your support means the world and here's to the return of the asterisks because I haven't added them in a while. Hope you enjoy that extra info! By the way, after 'stranger ways' review reply, there's a very lengthy one that you cannot comment on. None of you can flame or threaten this reviewer and I hope the way I dealt with it is fine with you all. Let's just put it behind us.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: Dude, your reviews actually give me life. I love them so much and they never fail to brighten up my day. Honestly, thank you so much!**

 **Grammar World: I already had this letter thing idea in place before you reviewed, so naturally, I am now saying thanks for the idea but I already had it. Now, on to your review.**

 **The first portion of your review was fine (it still irritated me but I can live with that - there are definitely going to be side-stories in this universe) but what really got me was the second bit. If you find I have too many grammar errors that, and I quote, "the** **world of the English language had imploded, and created a black whole (it's hole, by the way) distorting all grammar of every language as we know it." Why did you read all twenty-one of my chapters? And if you find it so annoying and wish for me to correct it, why don't you get off anon and, instead of wanting to roast me, shoot me a PM to offer as a position of a beta, as you clearly imply that you can already see these aforementioned errors. You obviously think that I need one and I'm more than willing to have one. I'm glad that you told me that I need a beta reader but your review comes off as hostile and aggressive, especially the last two sentences.**

 **Honestly, just step up, kid. You don't have perfect grammar yourself and this site is all about helping each other improve. Get the courage to get off anon and offer help if you think it's needed. Constructive criticism could have been written so much better in your review than the way you basically smacked me in the face with your review and said, "Your grammar sucks. It's so bad I want to shove the point down your throat."**

 **I'm sorry if I come off as rude but it happens when people are rude to you in the first place.**

 *** You're talented and kind and capable in your own way because you took Joan in*... There's gonna be a few side-stories in this universe once this fic is done.**

 **** But as I sit at the plantation my husband bought and watch the men and women out there happily working for him because he is paying them handsomely and their families are well-cared for, it somehow spiralled into this.** Lafayette bought land in French Guiana and emancipated slaves at the plantation because he was an abolitionist.**

 ***** "April third… August first," Those are the death dates of Laf's mom and dad respectively.**


	23. Robbed

**A/N: Vote on my poll on my profile, yo. Also, don't be fooled by the chapter count. There's another long review reply. Sorry!**

* * *

 **Chapter 23: Robbed**

 _September 20, 1786_

"See, there are things that make me just want to rip my hair out. This is one of them." She growled, feeling pins stab into her skull. Her hair was done up elegantly, courtesy of Gerard's connections and she wore a tight corset underneath an elegant and intricate dress that really made her unable to breath. John Adams laughed shortly under his breath, giving his taller companion a wink.

"Oh, hush. It's just a little party."

"Little is an understatement. We're in a _ballroom_ , Mr. Adams." She shot back, smiling at passersby before sipping on the red wine. "Parties in offices, I can manage. Mansion parties, I love. But a ballroom seems," she searched for a right word before deciding there was none, "too big."

"Once you get used to it, the crowds are more suffocating than you think." Mr. Adams remarked as Genevieve watched Lafayette talk to some nameless British politician. The aura was frosty and she excused herself to save him. "Saving the day, once again," his teasing comment followed her and she rolled her eyes before making her way towards her husband.

"And how are you enjoying London?" The man asked as Genevieve approached. She pulled her decorative shawl tighter around her arms and stood by her husband's side. " _Madame,_ "

"Mr. Abrams." She nodded to him as he bowed, taking her hand. She curtseyed, "We're liking London just fine for a family that just came from America." Her tone was coldly polite. He let go of her hand and she glanced at Lafayette, "Unfortunately, we've encountered a pothole or two."

"I hope you came out of it unharmed." He had the same frozen smile on his face as she cocked her head.

"We did, thank you. How's the wife?" Mr. Abrams' face twitched as Genevieve smiled more genuinely. "I saw her just yesterday - Mrs. Adams had introduced us." A hooked smirk, "Is she not well?"

"Mrs. Abrams is at home with the children. Our little son caught the flu and seemed to have spread it to her as well." Lafayette made a noise of sympathy and when Mr. Abrams met his gaze, he kept it level. Genevieve didn't make the slightest inclination that she heard.

"Send them our sympathies."

"I will."

"Is there anything else you wished to discuss?" He questioned after and Mr. Abrams shook his head, looking thoroughly surly. "Then, if you'll excuse us."

"Of course. It was nice talking to your, _monsieur_ Lafayette. And _madame,_ " he bowed once again and they departed. Lafayette leaned close so his mouth was near her ear. She turned her head toward him slightly.

"Is it bad that I feel no sympathy to the man?"

"No, because I do not. He wants to leave his wife." She said and Lafayette snorted in surprise. "His ring's gone and Mrs. Abrams looked absolutely terrible yesterday."

"Any reason why?"

"His mistress," she answered simply with an unladylike shrug and he choked back a laugh as they walked through the crowd. Many couples were dancing but one woman caught Genevieve's eye. Trying to stuff her excitement down, she dragged Lafayette around the floor and sidled up to her.

"Mrs. Church," she greeted and Angelica turned with a surprised expression etched onto her face. "How is this fine evening treating you?"

"Genevieve! It's so good to see you. And when one comes, the other is soon to follow," the woman added upon seeing Lafayette appear over Genevieve's shoulder.

"Are formalities still something between us?" Genevieve asked, curtseying as Angelica did the same.

"In this kind of environment, yes," she replied. "How're the children?"

"Asleep by now, hopefully. Either that or Gerard is not doing his job. Gerard is our butler though he's more a friend," Genevieve explained and Angelica hummed. "And you? The husband and children are fine, I presume. You mentioned nothing in your last letter."

"The usual," Angelica responded quite indifferently. "John is somewhere in here, chatting the ears off of some politician and he's left me in the hands of available and handsome young men. Who is to blame if one of them gets too close?" She added mischievously.

"Please do not bring my wife into your scandalous exploits." Lafayette said, grinning at the Schuyler who shook her head.

"Ah, Lafayette. Do you not know me at all?" She asked and grabbed Genevieve's wrist, tugging her into the depths of the ballroom crowd. The _marquis_ ' eyes widened, watching the brunette wave before he couldn't even see her anymore.

" _Merde._ " He cursed, turning to find a waiter extending a platter of wine glasses. Taking one, he chugged it like water before taking another.

 _February 22, 1787_

Tapping her foot impatiently, she paced back and forth in the drawing room. Glancing at the clock again, she sent a tight smile to Gerard who was in a similar state of worry. "Do you think denouncing them is wrong?"

"If honesty is wrong, then yes." Gerard replied and she shook her head.

"I didn't mean ever. I meant now, when France is slowly gaining the courage to riot. Lafayette speaks with passion - he will derail from his speech." She implored, sitting down and resting her chin in her hands. "I read it," closing her eyes, she imagined the slanted black letters, "it was good. There were valid points - he advocated for reform and for a national assembly that was true to France. It was, right? It made sense and it wasn't just an endless amount of rambling from too many sleepless nights?"

"It was, _madame._ Please, rest." Gerard murmured, "The children miss their parents." Relenting, Genevieve shot Gerard a dark look.

"If he comes back, tell me immediately. I'll be upstairs with them."

"Of course, _madame la marquise._ "

"It's Genevieve."

"Of course, _madame._ "

.

When Lafayette finally crawled into bed, Genevieve was still wide awake and she turned, hugging her husband close. "You took your time," she muttered as he groaned, burying his face in her hair. His cold body warmed under her touch as he stroked her side.

"The King disregarded everything I said." He mumbled, pulling her closer. She burrowed her face into his chest, "And I have made myself hated even more by the nobility."

"Great," she sighed and he shifted under the blankets so he pinned her to the bed. "Lafayette, what are you doing?" Her eyes met his and he kissed her deeply. Even though their lack of intimate time since their children had Genevieve welcoming to his sudden affection, she was extremely confused. "Hey," her hand cupped his jaw and pulled him back. Smiling, she just stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

"You've given me everything I never knew I wanted." He said quietly. "I want you… I want you _so badly._ "

"Is that the stress speaking or my husband speaking?" She challenged. When he failed to answer, she kissed him reassuringly on the lips before resting against the pillow. "I want you. I'll always want you and love you, but this isn't _us._ It has never been." He pressed against her, but not sensually, just as a comforting presence atop of her as he rested his head on her sternum.

" _Je suis désolé._ After everything… I thought something familiar could ground me. I thought… feeling something that reminds me of better time would just take the edge off this world we live in." He tried to smile but it didn't come out right. "It has always been you, Gen. _Mon amour._ "

"And you have always been my anchor." Her fingers ran through his hair, scraping pleasantly against his scalp. "I love you, Lafayette, but I'm not becoming something I joined the war to avoid." _A trophy wife who let their husband have whatever way with them._

"I know," he shimmied up to kiss her before pecking her forehead and cheek.

"Guess it's true that when it comes to romance, the French do not think things through," she whispered and he chuckled, albeit forced. "Passion is one of your greatest assets. Sometimes, it just goes to your head." The brunette teased and he sighed, pressing their foreheads together.

"I love you,"

"And I you. Now, sleep. Let yourself rest and perhaps then that edge will disappear for just a few short hours."

"That sounds nice." Kissing him, she tucked into his chest once more and soon, sleep crept into their company.

 _July 7, 1789_

Genevieve appeared in the parlor, watching her husband and Thomas Jefferson add the finishing touches to their declaration. Approaching them, she pushed Jefferson's legs off the chair he was lounging them on and sat down. Ignoring his shocked glare, she read the draft Lafayette readily handed to her.

They awaited in a silence as she flipped a page, eyebrows knitted together until finally, she reached the end with a sigh and set it back down. "Where are the women's rights?" She asked, infuriated. "Where are the rights that your daughter will have?" She pinned the both of them with a glare. "' _No man can be accused, arrested nor detained but in the cases determined by the law, and according to the forms which it has prescribed. Those who solicit, dispatch, carry out or cause to be carried out arbitrary orders, must be punished; but any citizen called or seized under the terms of the law must obey at once; he renders himself culpable by resistance.'_ These articles do not represent a mere man's ideals for equality. They should represent everyone, regardless of sex and race."

"Told you - a spirited one." Jefferson stretched languidly.

"Should you encounter Angelica Schuyler, she will not take kindly to your _tact._ " She said laconically with a sigh. "And with such high hopes for the sequel as well." Lafayette snorted from where he was drinking from his glass of water. "But in all that is earnest, will this still be in place should our daughter grow up in France?" She asked and Lafayette looked away.

"The people need change. This is just the first step, _ma chérie._ I assure you." He consoled and she glanced at the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen again.

"Should he propose that women have equal rights, Danton may in fact make due on his promise to wring your husband's neck so tightly that, and I quote, 'His head pops off his shoulders.'" Jefferson stretched his arms above his head before bending them and lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Sounds like a pleasant man." Genevieve muttered and Lafayette shook his head, face stony at the mention of the man.

"And I thought he called me a 'traitorous whoreson with a wench of a wife that he'd love to _meet_ some time' affably."

"It's a good thing that when he tries to lift my skirt, all he'll see is a knife before his life ends." Genevieve commented loosely and Jefferson stared at Lafayette with raised eyebrows that said: _Is your wife crazy?_

Lafayette nodded, shrugged, sending mix messages because at this point, he knew Genevieve did not like Georges Danton one bit without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man face to face. "Unfortunately, _monsieur_ Danton is much more dangerous than he appears. And his appearance is something to fear."

Genevieve hummed thoughtfully. "And do you know who I met when I was out?" She asked and her own voice held something dark and dreaded. _Please, not Danton, not Desmoulins, not Marat…_

"Who?"

"Robespierre."

There was a silence where not even a single one of them dared even breath. Robespierre, the near-epitome of a child genius and a phenomenal lawyer who could match Alexander in wit and in words, was a dangerous man to bump into.

"And what happened?"

"Merely introductions. I played my part," she met Lafayette's eyes briefly, "and he seems… indifferent - aloof. It's off-putting. That man…" she shivered, unable to stop himself.

"He did not hurt you."

"He cannot." She said quickly. "These years have paid off - he wished to see me again and offered an alliance should _I_ ever need one." He noted her words. _Only her,_ he reminded in his head, _because out there, she is not my wife._

"Gen-"

"He mentioned the children." She interrupted, "So I said nothing. I allowed him to leave - Lafayette, when you present this declaration to the National Assembly, _be careful._ "

"He knows, _madame la marquise._ " Jefferson said in an uncharacteristic note of concern. "We will be there at his side though, no?" Despite his words, Genevieve seemed thoroughly shaken up and stood. At that moment did their son run into the parlor, barreling into his mother's legs.

"Mama, Emmeline is teasing me." Giving her husband and the ambassador a glance, she escorted her son out of the parlor. Lafayette could still hear them as they went towards studies where the children were with their tutors.

"Why, Georges?" Genevieve asked, holding onto her son's hand.

"She keeps saying that I'm so slow at learning and that I'll never be smart enough. But I am! It's just… difficult. There's something wrong outside, Mama. It makes it hard to focus."

"Outside? It's sunny and clear." She said, voice obviously fake. Lafayette winced and Jefferson patted his back. Standing, he excused himself and followed his wife carefully.

"It feels so… angry. I'm scared." _My little son…_ He felt his insides ache. If his seven-year old son could sense the unrest in the streets, then he wondered how intuitive little Emmeline was taking it. Scooping up his son, he settled him on his shoulders, attempting to make him laugh.

"Papa, put me down!" He yelped and Genevieve's quiet chuckle rang in his ears.

"When's the last time we played, Georges?" He asked as they walked down the hall and into the study where Emmeline was working on her maths.

"I have to study, Papa." Georges protested but when Emmeline heard her brother again, there was an apology etched all across her face. "And I don't want to see _her._ "

"Georges-" Emmeline tried but Genevieve stepped in before her daughter began to cry and her son completely lost it on his sister.

"Emmeline, come here."

"Everyone is so angry, Mama. It's scary," her green eyes were wide with fright as she asked to be picked up silently. Genevieve sighed, picking her up and making a mental note that her daughter was growing up too fast. "I didn't mean what I said to Georges," she looked at her brother who was near the bookshelves, still on his father's shoulders. The boy was pointedly ignoring his sister as Jefferson stepped into the room.

"Mr. Jefferson," Georges called and the ambassador made his way towards the _marquis_ and his son. Taking the little Lafayette off his father's shoulders, Thomas Jefferson held the boy naturally in his arms before scanning the shelves and picking a book full of poetry for him to read.

"Emmeline, I need you to be brave." Genevieve murmured, still watching the trio of boys interact. "For yourself and for your brother. I know you didn't mean what you said but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"I know,"

"Are you going to apologize?"

" _Oui._ _Je vais maintenant._ " Nodding, she put down her daughter and watched as Emmeline tugged on Thomas' magenta cloak and asked to talk to her brother. Giving the child a tender smile she had never seen directed at an adult, the minister settled the brunet child back down.

Genevieve never thought about it but now did she realize that her son was starting to look extremely alike to his father. With the same curly hair tied up in a practical ponytail and angular features that were beginning to appear, she thought he'd grow up to be quite a handsome man. In her daughter she could see her husband's mannerisms, from the hand gestures to the expressive facial expressions she made.

Lafayette watched his two children interact, seeing every bit of his wife in them. Standing next to Jefferson, he watched as Emmeline bit her lip as her mother did, golden-brown hair like her uncle's tied back into a braid. And how Georges stared at his sister was the same way Genevieve pinned men and women full of nonsense.

Both could only think of the innocence about to be robbed from them in the following years.

"I'm sorry, Georges. I didn't mean it. Can we be friends again?" Georges looked unsure at his sister before nodding hesitantly. "The world is scary - I think it'd be nice to have your sister as your friend." There she went, stating things like facts like her mother. His son nodded, hugging his sister tightly.

"I know. Maybe we should get smarter so we can be like Mama and Papa. We can be heroes too!"

"Yeah!" Together, they ran back to the table and opened up their books as Genevieve approached the two men.

"If they can feel it," her voice was hoarse and quiet, "how are we going to hide the war that's going to be right outside our door soon? The blood that will spill…"

"We won't be able to, Ms. Alcott." Mr. Jefferson said and they all shared look before sparing a glance at the innocent children. "Whatever happens, there will be nowhere to hide."

 **A/N: Yes, action. We are finally getting somewhere! On a more important note, I may not update next week. I know school is out and stuff but my mental state hasn't been too great lately. It's nothing to worry about, I just want to take a break. Depending on how I feel, I will/will not update for my sake. Sorry guys!**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: OKAY, KIDDO, THOSE REVIEWS BUT I MEAN. It's fine. Your comment wasn't directly hateful although I'd have liked it more if you didn't add it - just my way of maintaining the peace!**

 **Hamil-Guest: Ayy! Thanks for sticking along for the ride, my dude! Keep rockin' on and enjoy the show!**

 **Trust Me: I'm glad that you asked for forgiveness. It's not something many do so I appreciate that. I believe that kindness is something born in all humans. You don't have to be taught how to be kind - it comes naturally. I can't understand how you were raised with strict, disciplined teachers because that wasn't how I was raised, so I don't understand how they treated you, how they taught you, etc. What I can understand, however, is that the way you were raised gave no room to think of other's emotions and that when you posted your first review, you did not think it through. You weren't being unkind, you were just being slightly impulsive in your frustration and lack of time. Otherwise, why else would you apologize? If you had just paused, re-read what you were about to say to another human being with emotions, then I'm sure you would've rewritten it. So I accept your apology albeit with difficulty.**

 **You don't need to know how old I am, how many years of practice - this is the internet, it's an unsafe place. Unless I trust you explicitly, I'm not about to throw my age around. Sorry about that. Where I live, teachers do not drill grammar into your mind. In fact, one of my possible English teachers next year has informed me that he doesn't even teach grammar because he believes it's useless when everyone knows the basics of it already (When to use commas, quotations, etc.) My English teacher this year didn't even give us any punishment for using the wrong grammar. Only pointed it out and told us to do better next time. In a world where there's tumblr, the internet, memes, and such, language has really gone lax so I've grown up in a world where grammar isn't the most forefront of our education.**

 **I write as a past time. I have no idea if I want to do this as an occupation when I grow up. I ask myself questions daily, which is why I research all the events and make everything as accurate as possible. Your review(s) did bring me down, I'll admit that. It hurt when someone has so harshly said things you already knew and stated things you had known long before you even started this story. I obviously want to improve, but that isn't my main goal here. My main goal is to provide reading entertainment to the masses and have some fun playing with characters I love. Improvement is just a little thing on the side that secretly gives me joy. Comparing what I'm writing now to what I wrote nearly 4 years ago... it's nothing short of a miracle that those little stories even got reviews! Just... trust me when I say that grammar is great when you take it seriously, but when you see the reviews that you're giving people entertainment and that they love the character you created, it's amazing because you feel this sense of accomplishment. Your story is sound, your character is likable and loved with who they're paired up with. You've done it.**

 **My own reply is getting too long now so I'll just leave it to a few points. I'll keep writing, and if I pick up a few lessons along the way, yay me. But right now, I like where I am. I like that my sentences are easy to read (most of the time, when I'm not insanely tired) and that I can write an actual plotline that makes sense and that I have created a character that is someone the readers like. If I plan on pursuing this on a more professional level, I will definitely strive to improve, but right now, writing is just something I do on the side.**

 **If you wish to talk any further, please create an account and PM me. Thank you.**


	24. Bastille

**A/N: Vote on my poll on my profile for my next Hamilton project!**

* * *

 **Chapter 24: Bastille**

 _July 14, 1789_

When she woke up, she knew something was wrong. Lafayette wasn't in bed, he wasn't with the children. He just... disappeared.

When she took her normal stroll through the neighbourhood, it was ominous, the whole aura. Everyone was angry, everyone was prepared for something she didn't know. Lafayette had been holding something from her since her admittance of meeting Robespierre. What was it?

Then, as if everyone was on the same agenda, they began the marching. The marching towards one destination everyone knew. As she followed the crowd, she saw women and men brandishing weapons made from household items - knives, torches, belts, pans - and items not so common like guns.

A crowd of citizens determined to storm the Bastille.

Her heart stopped beating.

 _Where is Lafayette?_ That one thought circled her mind as she tried her best not to race home - tried not to show worry to the public. As soon as she got in and threw off her shoes, she met Gerard's eyes in the kitchen where he was making her children a snack and stormed up the stairs. Running into her room, she searched for the one thing her husband always left behind for her when he left her alone.

Searching the drawers, she finally stopped at the one on the right side of his desk. Taking the gun, she made sure it was loaded. "Make sure the children are safe," she said laconically. Gerard paused, waiting outside as she closed the door for privacy. Adjusting her coat, she tied up her hair into a bun and checked her reflection in the mirror. She was fine, she just had to breath. Hiding the gun wasn't going to be easy - she needed her biggest coat. No... that wouldn't work.

But a change in identity would do better. Shrugging off her coat, she shed her dress and wiped off any makeup she had on before finding a set of her husband's clothes.

Binding her breasts with a shawl, she did again with another before gazing at herself in the mirror. It still wasn't enough. Clenching her fists, she tried to find something, _anything,_ before her green eyes finally landed on a roll of bandages they always kept nearby in case one of them stumbled back bleeding. It was just a habit they kept since the days in the Continental Army.

Taking the roll, she bound her chest and found the bond stronger and more flexible to the shape of her body in case she needed to move. Slipping into his clothes easily, she felt no comfort wearing Lafayette's shirt normally gave her. Instead, it only brought more images him dying, alone in the angry streets. Tucking her bun into a hat, she looked in the mirror again and wiped away any makeup left on her face.

There was Oliver Smith.

Shrugging on Lafayette's smallest coat and hiding the gun in there, she opened the door and headed down the hallway. Gerard kept paced once he regained his bearings to seeing the woman's new apparel.

"And where are you going?" Gerard asked sharply.

"I'm making sure my husband is safe." She replied, heading down the stairs where the children were reading or drawing, whatever they were doing in the late morning. Emmeline and Georges hadn't even looked up, so invested they were. "Gerard, if something happens…"

"Nothing will." He shot back firmly and the manservant hugged Genevieve tightly. "If something happens, it will be that you two return home safely. _Au revoir et bonne chance,_ _madame._ "

"Thank you," drawing back, she tried to smile but it failed. "I'll see you soon," _I hope._

In the brief minutes she was gone, chaos had multiplied by tenfold. Every single person was screaming a profanity as the crowds swept her closer towards the Bastille. People were screaming for negotiations to finish, for the guards to surrender the prison, for blood to spill. It was deafening and she could hear Camille Desmoulins rallying the people.

Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she wondered why she could see the man but then she realized he was mounted on a table as he pumped his pistol in the air. "Citizens, there is no time to lose; the dismissal of Necker* is the knell of a Saint Bartholomew for patriots! This very night all the Swiss and German battalions will leave the Champ de Mars to massacre us all; one resource is left; to take arms!"**

Scanning the crowd for her husband, she fingered the gun in her pocket. Lynched men were swaying, her deafened ears not hearing anything as she watched the bodies sway. Absolute horror filled her as she pulled her hat tighter around her head. _No…_

Trying to fight the crowd, she felt someone tackle into her and staring up at her offender, she found the face of Lafayette. Cupping his face, hands slipping on how sweaty his skin was, she finally found a firm grip and despite everything, smiled.

"It's happening," he breathed in a mixture of excitement and fear. Holding onto her, Lafayette watched the people push against the gates of the Bastille, "Our revolution is happening before our very eyes."

"Freedom, but at what cost?" She asked, pointing a hand towards the bodies of the dead guards. His hand gripped her shoulder hard and brought her closer. "What are we going to do?"

"Survive. History will remember this moment." He whispered before a new surge of citizens pushed them away. Holding onto his fingers, she tried to say something before being knocked back.

"Lafayette!" She screamed, trying to push against a wave of a hundred people. He sunk into the sea of people when there were gunshots. Head snapping to the Bastille, she realized that the guards were finally firing back. People started falling as smoke rose and she ducked her head.

Absently, she realized that she could still hear Camille Desmoulins screaming still as she fought her way to the edge of the crowd back towards her home. Nudging people out of the way, she bumped into women who snarled at her and men who pushed her back. Landing on her behind, she winced and pulled herself up, shoes pushing against the grit.

When she finally broke free from the mob somehow, it felt like an era had passed. Sweat covered her whole body and she pulled her shirt to fan herself. Ambling over to the shade of a building, she leaned against the building and slid down, eyes closing. It was something like the Battle of Monmouth. The sweatiness, the humidity and how suffocated she was feeling was familiar.

Wiping her forehead, she felt a knot in her throat. A war torn country, lynched guards and the citizens of France as one angry force. This will not end well. She knew it.

 _July 15, 1789_

When the _marquis_ _de_ Lafayette was appointed commander-in-chief of the National Guard, it was said that the _marquise_ was by his side every step of the way. Despite the public's conception that there was nothing but contained animosity, they watched the _marquise_ smile tightly at her husband as he proclaimed the name and symbol.

Wearing a red, blue, and white cockade, the man announced to the National Assembly of his promises to protect France.

And a rumor was spun that when the ceremony was over, the Lafayettes exited the carriage outside their house. The _marquis,_ legs shaky, looked extremely green as his wife pressed a kiss to his lips and lead him inside their home.

 _August 20, 1789_

 _My dear friend,_

 _I wish I had happier news - that Genevieve is pregnant again or that the revolution will be one that will be of peace, but I cannot. I'm sure you have heard - France is in financial and social ruins. The mobs attack the nobility and the nobility refuse to accept that the change is very much real. That if they do not abet, more blood will be spilled._

 _I did not come to this decision lightly, but please, Alexander, we need your help. I cannot even tell you of the terror and rage in the streets of Paris - it cannot be described. The people are angry, the fall of the Bastille signified everything._

 _Do you know how long the peace lasted after?_

 _Not even two days passed by before hordes of men and women all around France began burning houses and razing crops of their aristocrats. Fear is causing every man, woman, and child to act irrational and mobs charging down the streets is not uncommon._

 _As Genevieve once called Paris, it is a wolf and it will devour its children if I cannot do anything about it. Alexander, I cannot begin to imagine the sway you have over_ Monsieur _Washington, but I know that your word means much to him._

 _Please, I am not asking, I am begging. Look back on our friendship and remember that France can be your great ally once again - she only requires the aid you can supply. Without it, I do not know if France will survive. If_ we _will survive._

 _I don't know what to do._

 _Yours,_

 _Lafayette; July 20, 1789_

 _September 12, 1789_

Lafayette was stressed, that much was clear. The nobility thought of Lafayette not better than the radicals and the radicals thought he was just protecting the nobility. After the assassination of the mayor of Troyes, he was scrambling to make ends meets. His soldiers barely respected him enough to follow orders.

"Papa, are you alright?" Emmeline asked on one of the rare days he was home. It had been weeks since they had last seen him and they burst into tears when they saw their Papa walk through the door.

Their mother couldn't say the same. Genevieve was passed out in the drawing room, working herself to death writing letters and meeting with politicians left and right. That, on top of taking care of her two growing children had led to many sleepless nights when her husband wasn't home to force her to sleep.

Georges slipped his dishes into the sink and brought a stool closer to wash the plates. His son glanced at his father and sister, scrubbing the dishes with more force than what was needed. Lafayette sighed, moving around the food on his plate. It was something he had managed to scrounge up and didn't fill his stomach well but it had to do. Placing his fork down, he picked up his daughter and settled her on his lap.

" _Oui, mais je suis fatigué._ " He said and she hugged his neck tightly. Georges let his plate slip into the soapy water and dried his hands, hopping off the stool. "Come here, Georges."

"Mama doesn't sleep when you aren't here." He whispered, climbing up and into his open arm. Hugging his children close, his eyes slipped shut as they just stayed in silence.

"I know," Lafayette finally murmured and his children pulled back in synchronization. They looked so alike, like their mother in the way they regarded him.

"She says she's fine." Emmeline whispered against his beard. It was time for a shave. Grimacing, he ran a hand through her hair. "What's happening?"

"Change, _ma petite._ "

"I hate it," Georges grumbled and Lafayette chuckled despite the situation. "I want to go back to where we used to live. America." _As do I, my son,_ he thought before pulling his children back.

"Go wash up and get ready for bed." Gerard entered the kitchen from the drawing room, smiling tiredly. "Gerard, can you…"

" _Bien sûr._ " Waving an arm, the older man lead the children out of the kitchen as Lafayette sagged in his chair. His legs splayed and his head slouching, he tried to regain any ounce of strength to get up and into bed upstairs. After a few moments of quiet, he got up and entered the drawing room where his sleeping wife was.

The brunette was lounged on the couch and a blanket was laid atop of her. Realizing that was Gerard's doing, the _marquis_ sat down on the floor near his wife's head and brushed hair away from her face. Pain nipped at his gut when he saw the dark circles around her eyes. Glancing around the room, he saw papers strewn across the table with the cold tea and ignored biscuits.

" _Mon amour,_ " he whispered against her knuckles, brushing his lips back and forth over the ridges of her hand, " _je suis désolé._ " Her face didn't even twitch - the only sound to signify that she was alive was the rise and fall of her chest. His hand trailed along the scar that nearly broke them apart, yet made them so much stronger. Across the curves of his wife he loved so dearly.

Pulling back her blanket, he gently scooped her up into his arms. She tucked into him well and slowly, he carried her towards the staircase and up to their room. Slipping her into bed, he used a wet cloth to clean her face and to wipe away the ink smears on her hands before sliding into bed with her. Pulling her back to his chest, Lafayette was about to sleep when there was a shift.

"Lafayette?"

" _Oui?_ " Opening his eyes, he saw two green eyes staring back at him like he'd grown a second head. Sleep still misted her eyes and he noted that she couldn't believe it was him. "It's me, Gen,"

"I'm not dreaming?" She asked hoarsely and he wondered for how many hours was she speaking without a break. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the tears. Turning in his arms, she planted her hands on his chest and spread them so they ran along his arms, "Oh, God, it is you." Genevieve's breath hitched as she sat up. Pushing himself up on one hand, he regarded her carefully until she launched herself into him. Wrapping one arm around her, he took in her scent and her presence, and she started crying.

"It's okay - I'm here." He whispered but she shook her head against him. "Gen?"

"I miss you. I miss you. I miss you." She repeated like a mantra and he flopped on the bed to wrap another arm around her as she kissed him desperately. "The children kept asking - I didn't know what to say. Danton came earlier before you came back,"

" _What?_ " He hissed and her hands planted themselves on his cheeks as she pressed her forehead against his. "Did he hurt you?"

"He could never," she breathed, eyes shut tight. "He was looking for you and passed me a message." A nervous laugh escaped her, "Danton isn't the most human-looking man, is he?" Suddenly, he found himself laughing too as he kissed her again.

"No. More like… like…" he tried to find the right answer.

"A huge snarling bulldog?" She supplied and he nodded, cuddling her close to his chest. "Yes, I think that's an apt description." It was just the sounds of their breathing for a while as her eyes closed and her head slid to rest on his shoulder. "And the mobs?" Her tone was heavy, somber and he raked a hand through her hair gently. Unknotting a tangle, he repeated the motion to keep himself busy.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" He asked weakly and she raised her head for a moment.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" challenged the other and he knew what she meant. How many times had he come home only to leave before she woke? How many times had his children asked their mother when Papa was coming home? How many times had she been… alone?

"Yes," and her head dropped back down. "I will, I promise."

Genevieve could hear the stress in his words, the just-able-to-be-controlled panic of his still-new position and the organization, politics and travelling it entailed. The way his soldiers didn't respect him as much as they should. She knew his worries as well as he knew her own. Laying a hand near his neck, arm across his chest, she tried to comfort him somehow.

"If you have to go-"

"No. For once, I want to stay with my family." _When was the last time that happened, my dear wife?_ _That I've slept in this bed with you safe in my arms?_ He added silently as her thumb stroked his warm skin. "With you."

"Aren't you romantic?" She whispered, drowsy.

"It is in my blood,"

"So I've heard," replied the other drily and he breathed a laugh. "Tomorrow, I have a meeting with Robespierre." His blood ran cold and suddenly he found he couldn't sleep. "I couldn't refuse, I'm sorry."

"What will the meeting be about?"

"I have no idea. Danton passed the message along but he left it ambiguous." His grip unconsciously tightened and Lafayette glanced at the general direction of where she kept the gun out of the corner of his eye.

"Be careful,"

" _Je sais,_ " she used her own French against his trademark phrase. Despite her effort to make him smile, it failed. "You too. Come home at the end of this, that's all I ask."

"Stay alive." He whispered and she nodded before they fell into the silence of each other's presence, knowing that despite the peace in the room, turmoil brewed in the streets and that tomorrow would be another day of war.

 **A/N: Hey, guys! This is the update and unfortunately, might be the last for a while. I'm definitely not abandoning this story - I just thought one week would be enough of a break but apparently not. Even though it's the summer, I still have school for the next two months until the new school year for credit so I have to study among other things. If I pile too much crap on myself, my mental status won't be too good and it'll reflect on my writing. I want to make it as good as possible for you guys - you deserve more than crappy writing so that's why.**

 **I don't know how long - I'm thinking three weeks but it could be longer. I'm sorry. I'll just be listening to In The Heights and shiz like that. I'll try to update GTTR (my other Ham fic) this week and get another up next week so look out for that if you want.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Still Just Alex: I agree - let's put this behind us. Thank you for listing some sources - I'll try to read them if I have time but I can't guarantee I'll remember to apply them so I'll try. I think that's what's important, right? That you try. I'm glad it's over. Thank you. Oh, and the second link didn't post so if you want to repost that, you can. It's probably because FanFiction hates when people post links anywhere.**

 **The1HamiltonFan: Thank you so much! You should definitely keep writing. That's how you improve.**

 **Strawberry Cat: I hope your grandfather does/did well and that he gets better soon. Here's the next instalment.**

 **TabbyCat: Thank you. I hope you keep reading.**

 **stranger ways: ayy, I see what you did there. Lafayette children's innocence is being taken - not even joking. They're so precious I can't believe I'm doing this. Thank you for your review, as always!**

 ** _* "Citizens, there is no time to lose; the dismissal of Necker..."_ Necker was the financial minister that got sacked and made everyone extremely angry.**

 **** " _Citizens, there is no time to lose; the dismissal of Necker is the knell of a Saint Bartholomew for patriots! This very night all the Swiss and German battalions will leave the Champ de Mars to massacre us all; one resource is left; to take arms!"_ An actual quote from him.**


	25. Every Day a Burden

**Chapter 25: Every Day a Burden**

 _September 13, 1789_

Genevieve didn't know how long she sat there. Based on the message, Robespierre had said this café at ten and she had left the house nearly an hour ago at nine.

So she was here early.

Maybe that'd give her some time to calm her nerves.

Her finger traced the rim of her tea cup before curling around the handle and bringing it to her painted lips. She was wearing one of her more modest dresses but they still occupied more space than her legs could ever take up. She could probably hide a child under her skirts, to be honest.

" _Madame la marquise,_ " the respectful title rolled off a man's tongue without a trace of warmth or meaning. It was simply cold and flat. Raising her head slowly, she schooled her features into a mask of indifference. She set her cup back down with a soft _clink._ Green eyes blank, mouth set in a line, she met the dark eyes of Maximilien Robespierre. He was pale and lean, his brown striped suit hanging off his form. Standing, she gathered a fistful of her skirt in her hands and extended the other.

" _Monsieur_ Robespierre," she greeted as he took her hand and bowed. Curtseying, she straightened and he kissed her hand before letting go. His hand was cold, she reflected after a moment as they sat across from each other. A server immediately swept to their table, ready to take his order. His long fingers wove together on the table.

"I'll have what the _madame_ is having," he replied before turning those black eyes on her. "And how are you?"

"Fine," she said, "and you? Being the Deputy of our great National Constituent Assembly must be a tiring affair." She was not unfamiliar with his quick rise to power. This man's way with words was his greatest asset. On guard, she smiled politely as he cocked his head, nodding at the server who brought him a steaming cup of tea.

Pouring milk and sugar into the liquid, he stirred it absently but never took his eyes off of her. "It is. However, compliance does aid our attempts to reform our nation." A thinly veiled threat that she did not need eyes to see.

"Yes, it does." She agreed, "My husband's Declaration is sure to have helped." The brunette matched his aloof tone. "If only some could have seen that sooner." A slight tilt of the head as she spoke, "Or did you need his compliance more than the rights of his people? I'm sure having the Commander-in-Chief of the National Guard as an ally will surely boost your own status."

He let out a sharp exhale through the nose, a smile curling his lip. "For a woman who married only for a man's money, you are remarkably protective of your husband." _Damn._ She spoke too rashly.

"It is but my duty to defend my husband's actions," she said. "Are you implying that you do not stand for the same rights and freedoms?"

"Of course not," was his clipped reply. "As you come from a newly liberated nation, I suppose you still have independance on your mind."

"And I suppose you still have the notion of garnering friends in high places on your mind." His eyebrow twitched in an almost indiscernible movement but she caught it. "Is that why you've called me here?" The brunette watched as he sipped his tea. "To sway me with tea and biscuits until I can't do anything but agree?"

"A woman such as you, _mademoiselle_ Alcott," her legs stiffened so she wouldn't kick him, "needs an approach that reflects the tact and succinctness of your own. Danton would only be verbose and aggressive. And perhaps we can connect - you know how it feels to be raised from nothing." She raised a lazy eyebrow, looking at the table as she appeared disinterested.

Ignoring his last sentence, she spoke, "Speaking of colleagues behind their backs doesn't make for a trustworthy ally," she said and he hummed in amusement.

"As quick-witted as our first meeting, I see." God, he was infuriating. "I requested your presence here to propose-"

"I'm not interested." She cut him off but he held up a hand for her silence.

"Perhaps propose was the wrong word." His tone was flickering on the edge of laconic and annoyed. His hand fell back to the table. A small smile on her lips, she finally met his eyes. "There is no asking in what I am about to say. There is a fantasy, and then there is the cold, harsh word, _mademoiselle._ " Despite his words, he was quiet, soft. "Not many see it coming, but I do. The monarchy will fall and when it does, there will only be the dead, and those who are willing to take charge."

"What do you want, Robespierre?" She asked sharply and he just grinned crookedly.

"Everyone knows of the _marquis_ who brought home an American wife," he hissed, "and most know that there is no love lost. Yet, there is love for the children." Any mention of her twins put her on edge and her back was ramrod straight. Grasping her teacup so her hand wouldn't shake she took the saucer with her other hand and sipped before placing the cup and saucer back on the table.

"What do you want?" She asked again.

"It's time to choose a side, _mademoiselle._ Camille Desmoulins publishes the _Discours de la lanterne aux Parisiens_ a day, Marat's _L'Ami du peuple_ in two.* Words have much sway over the public." He leaned forward slightly, beady eyes burning into her gaze. "The _marquis_ is not a popular man."

"You say that as if it is not common knowledge." She spat and he pulled back. That was the sole reason she was doing this. She needed to get away from this man. Placing her hands on her lap, she clenched her fists where he couldn't see. "I know where my husband stands and it is not in his favour."

"Then you know you are not safe by his side. This revolution will not have the same clearly drawn lines yours did." Robespierre fished in his pocket and brought out his coin purse. "This is not simply two forces - good and bad - battling one another until one gives out. This is a country fighting itself, ripping out its support until there is nothing left."

"If that is what you say, then there are no sides," she contradicted him and he smirked again, that crooked smile that seemed so hollow.

"Quite correct. My wording was wrong, I apologize." No sincerity. "But there are allies. The radicals of our beloved country will be there when we build up our country once more."

"You're extremely confident for something as unknown as the future."

"It's not a mystery when you hold all the strings." Taking out a few coins, he slid them over to her side of the table.

"Give me a reason." she said, her fingers flitting across the metal as he stood, straightening out his suit.

"You know just as well as I do that the people will not stop until the King's head is on a silver platter. It'd be such a shame, however, should children be caught in the crossfire, wouldn't it _, mademoiselle_?" He asked and her heart thudded against her throat.

"I'm not some silly girl." She knew he was deliberately ignoring her title to disassociate her. It was as if he was saying to leave Lafayette in the dust. Her head hurt and she clenched her jaw.

His smirk grew and Genevieve's insides curdled at that haunting smile. Adjusting his collar, he nodded. " _Adieu_ _._ Stay safe. Who knows what can happen in the streets of Paris." The farewell was mocking her as he turned and left, his teacup half-empty.

Waiting until he was gone, she waved for a waiter, paid using all of the money Robespierre left behind and left, trying not to sprint all the way back to her home. Once she reached the familiar hedges, she climbed the few steps, flung open the door and slammed it shut. Leaning against the wall, she felt exhausted and heavy. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she rubbed them in small circular motions. Glancing around, she knew no one was in here with her - no one unwanted, that is.

"Gen?" Lafayette was still here. Resting her head against the wall, she slid down and tucked her knees to her chest. Hugging her legs tightly, she tried to swallow the bile that was clawing its way up her throat. " _Mon amour,_ " he ran down the stairs and crouched beside her before pulling his wife into his arms. She hugged him tightly, breathing ragged, before letting the few tears burning her eyes escape.

"That man," she breathed. He pulled back to look her in the face, brushing away tears.

"It is fine. Gen, you are safe."

"Robespierre offered an alliance again."

"What did you say?"

"He left before I could answer. Lafayette," she hugged him close again, "the children won't be safe. But he said..."

"No." he whispered, "Do not trust that snake of a man." His hold tightened and she bit her lip.

"Robespierre is becoming one of the most powerful men in France. I can't let Georges and Emmeline-"

" _No._ "

"Do you want to see our children grow up?" She shot back. "I know how dangerous he can be." Pulling away and standing up, she walked towards the staircase. She hadn't realized how empty she felt. Everything felt gutted out of her until she was nothing but a husk. It must've been a side-effect for everyone who had ever met him.

"So you know that he is only using you to extract favours." His sharp words made her stop.

"Of course I know." Her head turned slightly to the side as she gazed at the floor. "But do you think I care when _our children_ are threatened?" He was quiet for a long time and Genevieve thought he left but then he replied.

"No, and I hate that you are willing to risk your life for it."

"You risk yours every day, Lafayette." He laughed harshly before his breath hitched and she knew by his desperate heaves for air that he was crying. The stress of it all… it was slowly killing them. Turning around, she took the few necessary steps to envelop him in a hug. At first, his arms didn't move but after a few moments, they settled on her back.

"Don't say yes." He choked out, "I cannot lose you."

"And I cannot lose you yet I let you leave this house every day." She tried to joke but it came out short. Kissing him softly, she relished in the feeling of his swollen lips before kissing away his tears. "This is the life we chose, my love."

"It will be over soon," he promised, taking her hands in his and kissing her knuckles.

"No, it won't." Her green eyes reflected the same grief and aching pain in his soul as she smiled slightly. "But I love you."

"And I you." Pressing their foreheads together, the two just basked in the silence with their eyes closed. Lafayette sighed after, kissing her forehead. Hugging her again, he rested his chin on her head. "You are going to say yes."

"I have to. And perhaps I can tell you what I know - like a spy." He hummed and she just pressed her ear against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat.

"Like Hercules?"

"Maybe. That reminds me." She lifted her head to stare at him as they slowly, as if of the same mind, began to walk to the staircase. "Did Alexander respond?" Any sliver of a smile disappeared.

"No."

"Then we write again."

.

"How was your day today?" Emmeline asked, causing all members of the family to look up. Georges glared at his sister while their parents shared tired glances. "Papa, what did you do today?"

"Let us see," he mused anyways to go along with it. "I woke up, made breakfast for my two children and then paid the tutors. Then, one little girl asked for an early lunch and fell asleep on her father before it could be served." Emmeline flushed as Georges smirked.

"I was up reading a book!" She protested as Genevieve sighed.

"You know sleep is important." She glanced at her husband, a silent message in her eyes. _I'd give anything for a good night's sleep once more._ "And Georges? What did you do?"

"Papa taught me how to fight." The brunette's head snapped towards said man. "I know how to hold a sword now." Raising her eyebrows, she returned back to her meal as Gerard cleared his throat.

"And you, _madame?_ "

"Gerard…"

"I want to hear what you did today, Mama." Emmeline said and Genevieve grimaced. "You look tired. What did you do? Did you go fight? Papa told us a story from when you were in the army."

"Which one?" She asked, grateful for the subject change. Thank God her daughter could never stop talking sometimes.

"How you got that scar." Gerard supplied, glancing at the arm. "Impressive bravery, _madame._ "

"It hurt like h… like a lot." She said with a glance at her children. Dinner was almost finished and she was glad. All she wanted to do was sleep. "That was before I met your father." A history between them seen behind their share smiles, Genevieve took his hand on the table. Glancing at the clock, she felt her throat close to the size of a needle-hole. "Finish up. It's an early bedtime so we can say goodbye to your father tomorrow. Gerard," she glanced at him and the servant nodded with an easy smile.

Emmeline and Georges frowned but complied when their mother trained a stern gaze on them. They placed their places on the counter near the sink before following Gerard out. "Come along, little Lafayettes. Baths then off to bed." Georges looked back one last time, hair tied up in a bun. He had the same hair as his father and wanted it to be the exact same. Every morning, he'd ask his mother to do it but recently, he's been attempting it himself.

"Mama," she raised her head from where it was lowered, nose pinched between two fingers as her other hand clutched onto the table. Lafayette rubbed her shoulder before heading for the sink to deal with the dishes.

"Yes?" He walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

"I want to help." Picking him up, she held him close. He wasn't a child anymore and it broke her heart that he could at least sense how his parents were feeling. Emmeline, while brighter, didn't have the sensitivity of her brother. She was already off doing whatever she was set off to do. "Mama," his face scrunched up, "I want to fight."

"Oh, no. That is completely out of the question." She chastised and he scowled as she set him down. Crouching, she settled her hands on his shoulders. "Georges, sweetheart, you can't fight. You're not ready yet."

"But I want to help you when Papa is not here." He argued and Lafayette glanced over at them with a fond, sad smile.

"You are already helping, my brave little boy," Lafayette said, wiping his hands with a cloth and coming to stand by them. Genevieve agreed.

"Go on. Gerard's already running your bath." She kissed his forehead one last time before straightening up. Georges frowned, looking away and she sighed softly. "Georges." His dark eyes met his mother's and he hugged her once more before pulling away.

" _Je t'aime,_ " smiling, she nodded.

"I love you, too. Now, go on." He left the kitchen as Lafayette pulled her closer with an arm around the waist. "I can't do this alone." She breathed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Politics… I don't-" she broke her own train of thought.

"I know."

"Robespierre was crafted for this." She said and he sighed. They couldn't help think of Alexander, a soldier and a lawyer. Genevieve thought of how alike the two were, wielded with all the right words. But where Alexander could never stop talking until the receiver was convinced, Robespierre knew just what to say - what points to pressure - to gain allies.

And that meant they were worlds different.

Lafayette thought of his friend, the one he had fought by side. The one he drank with, the one he took to get drinking after his wedding. He thought of how Alexander could never stop writing to Eliza when they were on the frontier and how he was sure he was writing a storm back in America, formulating opinions on everything - not even to argue, just so they knew his standpoint. He liked being heard. Robespierre was only heard when needed.

And Lafayette just for it all to stop.

"I know."

 _September 14, 1789_

"Say goodbye to Papa," Genevieve murmured to her children who ran into their crouching father. Lafayette was once dressed again in his dark navy jacket, sheath hanging off his belt. His National Guard sabre handle gleamed in the dim sun. Emmeline began crying, hugging his neck as Georges clutched onto his jacket, sniffing.

"Papa, please don't leave." Emmeline wailed, tears streaming down her face. Georges tried to put on a strong front but even then, Genevieve could see her son breaking down every time he left.

This was wearing down - tearing down her children's childhood. There was always the thought that Lafayette would never return and her children knew it. Lafayette hugged his children close, sitting down and squeezing them tight as Genevieve crouched down. Emmeline turned around and launched herself into her mother's arms.

"Make Papa stay!" She yelled through her tears and Genevieve just held her daughter's head to her, keeping her close. Meeting Lafayette's eyes, she knew the same ache in her soul was mirrored in his.

"I can't," she whispered brokenly. "I can never make him stay. He's trying to make it safe for you." Emmeline sniffed loudly, wiping at her eyes with her palms. This new threat made Lafayette's eyes redden and he blinked hard, trying to focus on his wife. His _alive_ wife.

Scooping up his son, he stood and breathed in his scent as Genevieve hoisted up her daughter. The two adults stood close by, the twins nestling into their parents as Genevieve transferred Emmeline to one arm and hugged her husband tightly with the other. His hand settled on the small of her back as he kissed her temple.

"Be careful,"

"You too,"

"Papa, promise you'll come back." Georges said, raising his head and the other three looked at the youngest member. "Promise."

"I promise," he agreed and set down his son who in turn looked at Emmeline.

"Come on, Emmeline. If Papa promises, then he will come back."

"But I'll miss you!"

"What about I teach you what Papa taught me? I can teach you how to fight!" Emmeline glanced at Genevieve who smiled slightly through the tears, setting down her daughter. "Then, part of our Papa is always with us!" The green-eyed child looked at her brother and took the proffered hand as Georges led his sister out to the backyard.

As soon as Genevieve was sure they were gone, she herself found herself surrounded in his arms. He kissed her neck before embracing her tightly. Throat the size of a needle, she found it difficult to form words as they just stood there for a long time.

Inhaling his scent, she tried to imprint it on her mind as his fingers curled into fists against her back. "I'll write Alexander again." Her voice was so small.

" _Tu vas me manquer, mon amour."**_ He whispered back. "I will be home before you know it." She just nodded, too tired to say anything. Everyone seemed tired. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept and woken up completely invigorated. Not even with her husband beside her; there was always the fear, the knowing that he'd be gone in the morning.

"I love you." She said once more and he pulled back to kiss her deeply. One hand on her waist, the other to cup her face, he filled every movement of his lips against hers with meaning as their eyes slid shut. The hand that hooked on his shoulder from the back squeezed tighter as her other hand brought him down for another kiss. "I love you," she repeated and he nodded.

" _Je sais._ " He replied, pulling away. "Stay strong. I know you can do this." _I can't,_ she thought anyway but didn't contradict him. A lost expression took over whatever was on his face before and her heart felt tight. Opening the door, he spared her one last glance before entering the carriage that awaited him outside. Genevieve followed him to the door, holding it open as he entered. When the coach door slammed shut, her green gaze searched for his as he looked out the window.

One last smile.

She closed the door.

Leaning against the wood, she took a deep breath and swallowed to wet her dry throat. Robespierre was smart but she could be clever. She just had to keep the thought of her husband in her mind. She could do this. Pushing off the door, she walked out the house and into the backyard. Watching her children play but without the usual energy they encompassed, she felt that familiar pounding in her head. One more day.

She could do this.

One day closer to his return.

 **A/N: Hello! I'm only here to drop this update before I slink back into the darkness. I'm just gonna keep writing and drop a chapter once in a while. I'm still on break though. I'm like updating for my other Ham fic so yeah I don't know. Check it out because it has no fans and it's kinda interesting if I do say so myself. Okay, enough shameful self promo.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **stranger ways: Yo, I loved your puns even though they are cheesy! If I knew your IRL we would probably burst into song every 2 seconds. Thanks for reviewing and being so supportive!**

 **TabbyCat: I love Musical!Jefferson though, he's actually one of my favourites to write. Ah, sometimes he can be a bit of a handful though :P Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Strawberry Cat: Hey. I seriously hope that your grandparents get well and if not, that they had a peaceful passing. Thank you for reviewing even through this time - it means a lot. I hope that you're okay as well and I'm sending good thoughts your way.**

 ** _* "Discours de la lanterne aux Parisiens in two days, Marat's L'Ami du peuple in two."_ The _Discours_ is a paper that praises the Parisian mob and justifies the political violence. The L'Ami du peuple was Marat's first issue and proposed radical social and political revolution.**

 ** _**_ " _Tu vas me manquer, mon amour."_ You will be missed, my love.**


	26. Changes

**A/N: Sorry for such a long wait. Legit, my life spiraled out of my control and I had to take such a long break before I could even touch any story. As you may have known, my mental state has been fucking shit and it's still not good but it has its ups and downs. I've had a lot of up times recently so I hope to update more soon.**

 **This chapter is backed with stuff so forgive me if it's too heavy and I'm not completely satisfied with it as I feel like it's bland but still, I wanted to give you something for your support :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 26: Changes**

 _April 20, 1790_

Thomas Jefferson sat at his desk, reading the letter over and over. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the jilted words, ink smeared in haste.

 _To the one and only Thomas Jefferson,_

 _You know we're not friends, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. If you could see my husband's face, it would be clear as day that he is aging every day under the stress of trying to keep our country together._

 _We're both so tired. Politics plays a heavy toll on both of our sanities. You might've heard of the name Robespierre? Would you deem me insane if you heard of our alliance?_

 _I can't believe it myself at times._

 _I've tried writing to Alexander but he won't respond. If you don't either, I'll go to the President._

 _You must convince George Washington to help France. Children are being raised on violence - there are people dying every day. Not one goes by without gunshots._

 _Jefferson, this isn't a plea. I am commanding you. There's no luxury or time to waste because I fear, that if this continues on without help - this bloody civil war - we will all be dead. Fear spreads across the country - peasants burn down their aristocrats' homes. The women marched to Versailles in October and forced the family to live in the city. Marat has gained crowd favour and escaped arrest. Do you think that we will stay alive long as violence rules the citizens' heads? Especially with Lafayette being in the position that he is._

Thomas tried to imagine the spitfire brunette lying dead on the cobblestones, blood pooling around her, a gunshot through the head. Or even the guillotine, her head in a basket, the metal stained with blood. That was the fashion back in France. But then he thought of Lafayette, cheeks and eyes sunken in, features sharp and black circles around his eyes. A streak of gray through his hair as he hugged his children, trying to keep in his own tears.

Or Genevieve herself, eating dinner at the Lafayette home, the seat across from her empty. And when she slept, the bed wore uneven because that side was reserved only for one man. The children would never stop crying, asking for their Papa. Too young to understand before growing older, growing crueler because he was gone.

Then he knew what the worst case was. The twins out on the streets, nothing left in their name due to their parents. Genevieve and Lafayette, both long dead as Emmeline was forced into unspeakable acts and Georges could do nothing but work in factories where conditions were unbearable. He saw the children's round faces, as he last saw them, eyes wide and pouting and saw their faces become thin, eyes weary and hair dull. A shiver crawled up his spine.

 _When have I ever been this desperate, Thomas?_ There was a surprise; she was using his name. _I don't know-_ the words were scribbled out and he couldn't read it. Bringing the letter closer, he tried to make it out but failed. _-what will come next after this revolution. The monarchy falls, and what comes next? Robespierre speaks of the Jacobins who are eager for power and the Girondists, who will do anything to find stability._

 _With those two opposing forces, I can't see an end to this bloodshed._

 _We are all so very tired._

 _Genevieve Alcott, la marquise de Lafayette; February 26, 1790_

 _Shit._ It's all he can think. The letter dated back long ago - it was a wonder he was getting it now. Then dread filled his soul. They must've thought he had abandoned them. That everyone was.

Thomas Jefferson stood from his desk in the White House, bracing himself against the wood. The signature was half-assed, barely legible and so is the date. He wondered how quickly Genevieve wrote this or if she even thought before the words fell onto the page.

Hand clutching the letter, he got out of his office and tried to take a deep breath, finding it difficult through his tight throat. Storming into the President's office, his mouth opened but no words came out when he saw George Washington, elbows on the table and his forehead leaning against clasped hands.

"Hello, Secretary Jefferson." The tall man stood, a letter on his own desk. Instead of Genevieve's slanted writing, it's full of Lafayette's curled ones as Thomas approached the desk. He set down his letter before glancing at his President. George Washington gave a weary nod and he slid his letter over.

 _Your Excellency,_

 _I hope this letter isn't too out of line but I beg of you. If anyone will help us, it is you. No one is responding - Alexander, Jefferson, - we don't know who else to turn to. As leader of the great nation, France begs for your help._

 _Recently, Genevieve has become with child again and I cannot begin to stress how hard this is on all of us. As much as I am overjoyed, there is always a saying of terrible timing. It is only our luck, I suppose. She's only a few weeks along and with me being away as much as I am, I fear that we're still those young soldiers of nineteen._

Thomas tried to imagine the weak humour weaved in his friend's tone - the fake smile.

 _I digressed. Currently, Genevieve hovers over my shoulder, anger radiating off her very being. The children are upstairs sleeping and for now, the streets of Paris are quiet. In the morning, chaos will resume._

 _I consider you as a friend, a leader, and a father. I hold you closely in my heart and I only hope that you do as well. If you can't send help, at least give me a reason why. Give_ us _a reason._

 _Yours,_

 _Lafayette; March 16, 1790_

Mr. Jefferson and the President met gazes and Thomas ran a hand over his face.

"And what are you going to do?" Thomas asked, voice cold. And he knew the answer as soon as George Washington did not dare look into his eyes.

"What I have to."

 _May 31, 1790_

 _To the Lafayette family,_

 _The issue was brought to our attention during the cabinet meeting. It was decided that our own problems must be placed ahead of our allies. After all, if we try to fight in every revolution in the world, where do we stop? Where do we draw the line?_

 _Alexander Hamilton_

 _Treasury Secretary_

 _April 25, 1790_

* * *

 _To Genevieve and Lafayette,_

 _I fought for your side. Truly, I did. I know there's no reason for either of you to believe me. Mail was delayed; I would never postpone a response for you two. You both know that. Give your children my affections._

 _Thomas Jefferson; April 25, 1790._

In response, Genevieve sat down the letter and began to write later that night.

 _Thomas,_

 _We both know that. Although the initial sting of you deserting us plagued us for weeks, we know that you aren't someone to shy away from revolution or just one angry brunette. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stayed for as long as you did once we arrived. You are not someone to be one shoe in nor are you disloyal. You have been Lafayette's friend for a long time and I highly doubt you'd cross the Famous Fighting Frenchman and his American Wife._

 _Any names for our baby?_

 _Genevieve Alcott; May 31, 1790_

 _June 23, 1790_

Thomas sighed once he read the letter. He was glad that they could see his genuine feelings despite how poorly crafted his letter was. With a slight, sad smile, he responded with something short.

 _If it's a girl, Virginia. If it's a boy, Thomas._

* * *

 _To the Presidency of George Washington,_

 _How quick witted of you all. It's a grand sight to see that you are all playing the part of politician. It's truly unfortunate you had to sacrifice our friendship in the wake of that. You are in our thoughts as I believe we are in yours._

 _I have the honour to be Your Obedient Servant,_

 _Genevieve Alcott, la marquise de Lafayette; May 31, 1790_

Eliza read the letter to the Presidency and tried to stifle the anger in her throat. Closing her eyes, she shoved the letter back under the books where she had found them in Alexander's study before going out. The children were out spending time with their father and she was tasked with taking care of little Magda.* Peggy was upstairs resting after giving birth a second time, her baby son sleeping in the same room.

"What are you doing in here?" A new voice made her turn and she saw Peggy lean against the doorframe gingerly. She looked exhausted, hair a mess.

"You should be resting." Eliza chastised, coming to his sister's side and guiding her out. Closing the door behind her, she tried not to show her anger but Peggy could always read people, even if she didn't use it to her advantage.

"And you should be watching Magda but we all have our short ends, don't we?" She retorted. "What were you reading that caused a storm to settle atop your head?"

"The life and death crisis in France and how we are doing nothing to help them." Eliza's tone was hard and cold.

"It's something to do with Genevieve, isn't it?" Peggy clarified for her and Eliza looked away. "What is it, exactly?" The sisters gazes met and when Eliza explained the situation, blood rushed to Peggy's face.

" _Alexander did what?_ "

 _August 29, 1790_

"You look absolutely radiant." The room was quaint, dusty with disuse.

"Thank you." Genevieve watched Robespierre settle the tray of tea in front of her. Resting a hand on her rounded abdomen, she glared at him. "The _monsieur_ and I agreed that more children would be better for the estate."

"But wouldn't that mean more insects to split the will?" He pointed out and she didn't respond. She made sure Robespierre sipped first before she did. "Do not worry, Genevieve, I wouldn't poison the tea of an ally."

"You would if you think they're going behind your back." She pointed out.

"And where is your husband? You've been spending an awfully lot of time here, _madame._ "

"He rides for Nancy. A rebellion's broken out and national guards are having trouble keeping it down." She gave the politician a polite smile. "The Declaration of Pillnitz, I assume you're not happy about that." Robespierre's face became stony and cold.

"Of course not. The Queen's brother couldn't have been more inconvenient." The alliance between the King Louis, the Holy Roman Empire and Prussia had made a dent in the rebels' plans to overthrow the government. "Jacques Pierre Brissot - the Girondist leader -" she nodded, "He thinks that they're to declare war."

"I've heard. He's gaining rapid influence. Though one cannot fault Emperor Leopold to protect his sister."

"I suppose."

And then they had a suffocating silence. Genevieve's green eyes darted around the room.

"What do you need?"

"Nothing, as of now. I just thought we should have a nice afternoon tea." Robespierre replied with a cheshire grin.

"And how are the Jacobins?" She probed, "I haven't heard from Marat or Desmoulins recently. Not even Danton."

"Danton's gone and had a son." He informed and Genevieve arched an eyebrow in genuine surprise.

"He had a son."

"Exactly. What a strange concept that is. But then again, look at you." She snorted in an unladylike fashion and took another sip of her tea. It was flavourless and bland but she didn't comment on it.

"Look at me." She echoed dryly and leaned back against the _chaise._ "We live in strange times, _monsieur._ Camille Desmoulins, I hear, is in the midst of earning a father's permission to marry a woman. Danton has a family, Marat has been forced into hiding in the Parisian sewers. It's as if our revolution is losing it's momentum."

"No, _madame._ Trust me." There was a cruel curl of Robespierre's lip as he smiled fakely at her, "It is barely beginning."

 _December 12, 1791_

Angelica watched the coming ship return with anticipation. Silk gloves being twisted nervously in her hands, she waited as many disembarked. Different men and women of all heights boarded as soon as the gangway was lowered. The oldest Schuyler sister waited patiently though she couldn't help but fear for them. She hadn't heard from the Lafayettes in months and suddenly, a letter appeared out of the blue.

 _Where are they?_ Angelica thought uneasily, waiting. The stream of people was thinning and still they haven't disembarked.

Then she saw them.

Dressed in dark greys and black, they were barely seen but Angelica had a trained eye to spot her. Waving a hand, she slipped her gloves into her clutch as the group of three walk over. The tallest has their eyes trained on the floor but when they're closer, green eyes flash and meet hers through the fog. The hood is pulled down to reveal brown hair tied up in a bun.

"Angelica," Genevieve choked out upon seeing her old friend and they embraced tightly. Angelica could feel the bundle in the brunette's arms and looks keenly inside. There lies a baby, just over a year old. "Emmeline, Georges, this is your Aunt Angelica. You may remember her from when we first went to France." Angelica nearly started at the French lilt in her friend's tone, however faint it was. "You're going to stay with her for a little while before going to America. Remember?"

"Yes, Mama," one of the twins chorus and by the deeper tone, it was obviously Georges. The nine-year old children glanced at the British woman before looking back at their mother. "And we will watch over Virginie for you."

" _I_ will watch Virginie." Emmeline corrected and Angelica smiled slightly. The child's locks were growing long, a beautiful golden brown. "You will protect all of us." At this, Emmeline and Georges shared a look that only they could understand. Angelica sure as hell did not. Genevieve turned her attention back to the Schuyler.

"Lafayette and I cannot begin to express our thanks. Angelica," green eyes searched brown, " _thank you._ "

"Children do not deserve to die in an adult's war. You are only protecting them." She replied, taking Virginie from Genevieve's arms. The bundle was quiet, asleep as she, on instinct, burrowed closer to Angelica. There was a pang in her chest, at how cute the little child was, but when she looked at her old friend, she was struck by the absolute heart break in her eyes. "She'll know who you are. We will all promise you that." There were tears trailing down her cheeks and Emmeline hugged her mother.

"Be brave, Mama." Emmeline whispered and although the two older ones were trying to put on a brave act, it was clear the firstborns were close to breaking down as well. "Tell Papa we love him." Genevieve crouched so she could look at her son and her eldest daughter.

"Sweethearts, he already knows." And with that, they launched themselves into her arms and began crying in earnest. "I love you both so much. You're so brave. I love you." She repeated as a mantra and Angelica felt out of place, watching the family split up. Sniffing, the revolutionary stood and wiped at her tears.

"We can still stay, Mama." Georges argued weakly, holding onto his mother still.

"No. Be good for your Aunt Angelica, alright? And be nice to your sister, my brave little soldier." He puffed his chest out, biting his lip to stem more tears as Genevieve turned to her daughter. "And you," she swallowed, voice throaty, "you take care of your brother and Virginie."

"I'll make sure she knows who you are." Emmeline promised and Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut before opening them, more tears streaming down her face.

"I love you." Angelica found herself staring into the blotchy face of the brunette. Leaning forward, she stood so Genevieve could stare at her baby's face. "Never forget that I love you, sweetheart. We will see each other soon." A gentle kiss is brushed against the sleeping baby's forehead, salty with tears. "Angelica,"

"I know." And they hugged once more. Angelica kissed the woman's cheek, tasting her salty tears and seeing the emptiness in the woman's eyes once she pulled back. "I never wanted this for you."

"It's a choice Lafayette and I both made." Genevieve's jaw set, lips pressed in a thin line. "And sometimes I wish we had chosen different. But we couldn't let France destroy itself."

"I understand. If you can, write. I will as well."

"I know." Angelica smiled bitterly. "This isn't goodbye." Genevieve added softly before turning and pulling up her hood just as the ship's horn blared through the fog.

"Mama!" Georges yelled, "We love you!" There was no sign that they were heard as Angelica offered a hand to Emmeline. Normally, she wondered if the twin would even take it, but now she does as she stared into the ground. Georges followed half a step behind her on the other side, eyes forward resolutely, a near spitting image of his father. A sheath was looped in his belt and she wondered who's it was.

"Where are we going?" Emmeline asked tentatively as they boarded a carriage. Virginie was just beginning to wake and Angelica adjusted her hold. Georges was silent as he looked out the carriage but Angelica knew he was listening.

"Back to where I live. You will stay here a week before boarding the next ship to America."

"And our clothes?"

"My husband's valets are already recovering them." The woman assured the younger. "Sleep now, Emmeline." Angelica was not normally one for physical affection like this but gestured to her free shoulder. Emmeline laid her head lightly before the tidal wave of exhaustion hit her and she leaned more heavily on Angelica. There was a long road ahead of them.

 _December 25, 1792_

When Genevieve came back, the first sight was Lafayette lounged on the couch. The two met gazes before she looked away. The fight they had before she left was not one they were proud of. It was Lafayette's idea first to send their children away and she was objected to it, as much as it made sense. She had given birth to their daughter, for Heaven's sake and she practically had to raise them on her own. Not that she blamed Lafayette. Not that she _wanted_ to blame Lafayette.

"Come here, Gen." Lafayette's weary voice pierced through the muddiness in her ears. She was just shedding her coat when she glanced at him. He waved a hand and she came over, throat tiny as a needle.

"Laf," she crawled onto the furniture with him, breath hitching. His own tears make his eyes red and puffy and he kissed her hair weakly. It broke all her defenses and soon she became a sobbing mess, fists grabbing fabric of his shirt as she buried her face in his shirt. "They're gone. They're _gone._ "

"I know, Gen, I know." He murmured, voice hoarse and cracked. She wondered how many hours he had cried, unable to breathe because their family was in the process of being ripped apart. Already, she missed Emmeline constantly chatting and Georges quiet presence by her side. She missed Virginie crying for attention and Gerard shushing the child in the middle of the night.

Sobbing, she couldn't stop her shuddering breaths, shaking shoulders and ugly crying as eyes became puffy and breathing became difficult and stuffy. He held her all the while, tears coming unobstructed down his face.

"They will be fine," Lafayette repeated as if a mantra. As if somehow, that would make it okay.

 _January 27, 1792_

Eliza sat at the docks with her husband and John Laurens. Hercules and Peggy were to come soon. Philip was playing with his little siblings near the water and she kept a careful eye on them.

"Are you sure it's today?" Alexander asked quietly, uneasy. Eliza nodded stiffly, not looking at her husband at all. "Betsey-"

"Be quiet, Alex." Her voice was flat, cold as ice as she watched the ship appear on the horizon. She was still angry at her husband. It had only melted away only to come back in full force when she had received a letter from Angelica about their current situation. In fact, Eliza scarcely wanted to talk about their newest addition to the family that currently still resided inside her as a tiny bump. "If you don't want to be here, then you can go to the office."

"Eliza," John cautioned, "we don't want them to be scared when they come over."

"I know." She told him and they fall into silence, watching the ship come closer and closer. Hercules and Peggy come along after, watching as well. The air is filled with heavy anticipation and Eliza recited what Angelica had said they'd be wearing in her head.

 _Emmeline grows to be a spitting image. She will most likely be the one doing most of the talking. Georges doesn't like to speak to strangers. He wears his hair like his father with a heavy coat and boots. Emmeline will most likely be wearing a dress._ The letter had said. _Don't be surprised if they don't talk to you. They'll have been at sea for weeks. Even while they're here, they barely talk to me or my husband. My children even less. They stay in their rooms or are with their baby sister._

The ship docked, gangplank lowered as people began leaving the vessel.

None of the adults spoke still until Peggy raised her head from John's shoulder.

"What if they aren't here? What if they never made it?" She asked and Eliza felt coldness wash over her.

"Peggy, we don't talk like that. They made it." John warned with a glance at Eliza. Alexander leaned forward, arms on his knees as he watched them disembark.

"Do they have an escort?" asked Hercules. "Or are nine year olds and a baby travelling alone?"

"Angelica just had her own child." Eliza argued. _Alexander Church, a light baby who hasn't cried since he was born but still squirms and feeds like a fresh babe._ _Named after the most insufferable man on the planet._ As quoted from Angelica's latest letter. "And John Church will not risk his political career for children he barely knows." As the crowd thickened everywhere, Eliza and her companions had to stand to see and even then, only Hercules could see clearly - Alexander just barely and John not at all.

Eliza's children fled to her as she and Peggy sat - Philip, Angelica, Alexander Jr. and James Alexander. The youngest, James, crawled into her lap while Philip carried Alexander Jr. and Angelica held onto her father.

"Philip, bring Junior here." John called and the oldest child did so.

"Who are we waiting for, Papa?" Angelica inquired and Alexander patted his daughter's hair as he answered.

"Some new friends for you and your siblings to play with, parakeet."** Angelica giggled as the crowd began to thin. Friends found friends, family found family but still there was no sign of them. Perhaps they were having trouble, Eliza reasoned, but still, a dark pit began to grow in her stomach.

"You are all useless, you know?" A new voice drawled. Alexander's hackles immediately raised, tensing. Angelica raised her head and Eliza turned to see the ever flamboyant Thomas Jefferson.

"Jefferson." Alexander greeted through gritted teeth. He wore not his trademark magenta, but a dark navy trench coat of velvet and rimmed with silk at the breast. In his hand was his cane, golden globe serving as the grip.

"Hamilton." He nodded back. "Why Genevieve chose you to house her children is beyond me." He commented, "But I thought it would be fitting if I was here as well."

"Why?"

"Well, dear Hamilton, the children actually know me." Jefferson retorted but then his demeanor completely changed when he looked up. His face lit up with a smile and he had a spring in his step as he pushed aside the crowd. Peggy and Eliza shared looks before following after him, children in tow. The three fourths of the old Revolutionary Set chased after the women while the children both giggled at the fast pace and complained at the sudden, jarring movements.

The sight before them nearly made Alexander drop his daughter.

There Jefferson was, cane dropped to the ground. He embraced two children, one taller than the other.

" _Monsieur_ Jefferson!" The shorter child exclaimed, hugging the Secretary of State's neck tightly.

"Hello, Emmeline." He whispered back as the children were put back on the ground. Jefferson pulled back to reveal two children, one with tumbling golden hair and another with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. "And Georges! Look at you. Have you been taking care of your sister?"

" _Oui, monsieur._ " He replied, hands in his trenchcoat pockets as he glanced at his twin. Emmeline brought someone out from under her coat, a little baby cradled in her arms. Jefferson's smile grew by ten as he took the baby into his arms.

"Her name is Virginie." Eliza smiled at how touched the Secretary looked. "Mama said she named her after you. But I do not understand why."

"Why, because I come from Virginia." He explained briefly. Then, the man sobered up and remembered the others." Emmeline, Georges, this is Eliza Hamilton. I'm sure your parents informed you of her."

"Aunt Eliza," Emmeline said although there was no familiarity in her voice. Eliza stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her.

"You know when I saw you, I could still hold you in my arms." Eliza smiled warmly at the two children as they shared glances at each other. Virginie opened her eyes, surrounded by strangers in a foreign land and began to cry. Emmeline immediately began to shush her though her movements were erratic with weariness and frustration.

"Here, let me help." Peggy offered. "You look exhausted." When Emmeline regarded the woman warily and Georges settled a hand on his hip where a weapon could be concealed, she smiled slyly, "Peggy Schuyler-Laurens. Your aunt. Come on, now," the woman took the baby, rocking her back and forth.

" _Monsieur,_ " Georges still looked unsure, glancing at Jefferson who nodded. He had a impassive mask on his face as the children of the Hamiltons both stayed near their parents. The two children looked intimidating but Philip openly extended a hand to Emmeline bravely.

"Come on. We can take you back to our house. Mother's a great cook." He assured and Emmeline looked back at Jefferson who nodded. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before turning back to the oldest Hamilton child.

"Fine." Emmeline accepted though she did not take Philip's hand. "Lead the way to your carriage." John and Hercules smirked at Philip's embarrassed blush as Georges gave the boy an evil eye.

"Hamilton," Jefferson called to his colleague to keep him behind. The shorter man waited, turning around as the Southern man laid a hand on his arm. "If they're difficult or you don't know what to do, I'm open to come over." It was the most civil thing the man had ever said to him genuinely. "I know the children and they know me. I only want what's best for them." Alexander regarded the man warily.

"Of course. Thank you." The Secretary of State nodded, letting his iron grip on the other politician loosen. The Virginia regarded the Caribbean-born man for a moment before the latter turned to rejoin his family. The two French children holding their little sister stayed close to each other and, for a brief moment, Thomas swore he could see the dagger engraved with _G.L._ holstered on Georges' belt.

 **A/N: Plot heavy af with no fluff. I'm hoping to make characters more fleshed out which means Genevieve gets to blame Lafayette and Eliza has the coldest shoulder in all the land. :)**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: If Gen leaves, who'd take care of Lafayette? She's too loyal to just leave. Thanks for reviewing.**

 **Tabbycat: Same, bro. I hate Robespierre irl and in this fic. But I love writing him.**

 **The Silvernote: Haha, thank you :)**

 **jungkookies: I'm so glad that they're better. And it's fine because I didn't update for weeks anyways. Thanks for waiting.**

 **stranger ways: thanks bb.**

 **Dulharpa: ikr jfccccc i hate him so much thanks for reviewing!**

 **Azalea: Thanks for all the reviews! Luckily for you, Laurens did not die in this fic because he was too busy marrying and impregnating Peggy ;) Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **JeffersonIsDaddy: Nope. I do not give up on any of my fics. Was just taking a break but I'm back for this chap. :)**

 *** … _taking care of little Magda._ Magda is Peggy and John's daughter!**

 **** "… _your siblings to play with, parakeet."_ Little Angelica liked music and I hear she liked birds so I found it suiting that Alexander would call her that as parakeets can sing/chirp and all that.**


	27. Two Different Worlds

**A/N: I'm back and kind of proud of this chapter.**

 **Dedicated to Dulharpa, for it is her birthday on Thursday.**

* * *

 **Chapter 27: Two Different Worlds**

 _June 14, 1792_

"Happy birthday!"

Emmeline opened her eyes, blinking blearily up at the shape above her.

" _Que?_ " She mumbled and sat up. The shape plopped down on the bed, the mattress bouncing under his weight as she rubbed at her eyes. Philip's easy smile was the first thing she saw as she pulled her hair away from her face.

"It's your birthday, today." He repeated and she rose her eyebrows. "Don't you remember?"

"Of course I do." She retorted, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. Philip had been the one who was most eager to introduce her to many American delights and she found that his company, though extremely annoying and insistent at first, was pleasant. "I just woke up."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"Find my brother. It is his birthday as well," and Philip rolls his eyes. "Angelica is already with him, isn't she." The deadpan tone in the French child's voice was clear as Philip chuckled.

"My sister is _in love_ with him. Though I don't know why." At this, Philip scrunched up his nose and Emmeline grinned, nudging her friend.

"My brother is a far better friend than you are." She teased and Philip scoffed. "Perhaps she fancies the soldier-type."

"And you fancy the literary type." The brunet quipped, "Why else do you keep me around?" She sniffed and got off the bed, opening the closet. "I ever prepared a poem just for you."

"Let's hear it."

"It's the day of Emmeline

Her eyes are crystalline

They remind me of jungle vines

She is divine

Maybe one day, I'll call her mine

Until then, I can only rhyme."

His terrible rhymes made her laugh but she threw him a sour glare. Picking out a pastel lilac dress, she laid it on her bed next to Philip.

"I told you I don't want to marry you." She smacked him, wanting to shoo him out of her room so she could change.

"Not yet." He teased but his smile became softer at the edges when her eyes narrowed. "I'm joking, Emmeline."

"You better be, _monsieur._ " She retorted and he slipped out of the room, the door closing with a soft click. When he was gone, Emmeline allowed a small smile to surface on her face, her face warm with thoughts of the oldest Hamilton child in her head.

 _July 1, 1792_

On April 20, France declared war on Austria. Five days later, the _marquis_ _de_ Lafayette left his home once more, receiving orders to command the Army of the Centre stationed in the Metz. Despite all his war experience, the Lieutenant General could not mold his army into a fighting force able to hold back the Austrian forces and the routed French troops dragged one of their leaders outside the city of Lille to die at the hands of his own men.

Genevieve could only do so much as pray. Rochambeau had resigned and was back in Paris already, having visited Genevieve for dinner. There was stale conversation, nothing of joy to note, when outside, she knew that many were chanting her husband's name for death. Paris was suffering. The Jacobins had full control of the city and when a letter was given to her by a weary Gerard, her heart could only leap to her throat in fear.

 _Genevieve,_

 _Stay safe. I have sent a letter to the Assembly, criticizing the radicals torturing our country. These parties must be shut down by force._

 _Lafayette_

It was short, to the point, and Genevieve had to look away. "He's too late." She whispered to Gerard who could only regard her with grief.

"The Assembly are convening as we speak, _madame._ What are we to do?"

"There's nothing we can do." She leaned back against the _chaise,_ trying to ignore how empty the house was now, as she was the sole inhabitant. Not for the first time that morning did she think of her children, darling Emmeline and Georges and her _petite_ Virginie. Just over two weeks ago it was their birthday. She wondered how they celebrated. Did they have a cake, freshly baked as they deserved, eaten around a whole family that loved them? Something Lafayette and Genevieve both could not afford - some things could not be bought with money. "We can only hope that Lafayette has the intelligence not to come here."

"He cannot know the state of Paris, _madame._ " Gerard murmured, picking up the ignored tea and biscuits he had placed in front of her this morning. "Perhaps you should rest and eat. You're growing thin." Startled, her green eyes darted up to her dear friend. "If anyone comes, I will send them away."

"Thank you, Gerard." Genevieve ascended the stairs to her room she had once shared. Not for the first time did she glance down the hall where her children used to sleep. And not for the first time did tears threaten to escape.

.

They burnt him down.

Genevieve stood beside Robespierre as the mob burned down her husband in effigy. They were not sated with it. They called for blood. _More, more, more._ But they were quiet when Robespierre denounced Lafayette, condemned him as traitor. Genevieve held the paper in her hands, wearing it down and wrinkling it between uneasy fingers. A script she had written for her to say at Robespierre's behest.

But everything about this demonstration organized by the leaders of the Jacobins all had the same message. And her, standing among them, meant she promoted the same memo.

Do not bite the hand that feeds you.

 _August 14, 1972_

How was Danton minister of justice, the notion was beyond Genevieve's comprehension. But she read the notice in the mail, calling for her husband's arrest on sight.

Gerard asked if she's alright. She handed him the notice.

"Where is he?" She murmured and Gerard did not respond. That was her answer. "Then we'll have to wait. He'll send word of his whereabouts, I know it."

 _August 30, 1972_

She opened the letter Gerard handed to her without a word. Robespierre requested her audience and she was off to his office after donning on a plain dress. She pretended not to notice Gerard's worry clouding her air, stealing into her lungs as his eyes raked over the few white strands in her hair and her thin wrists.

The secretary allowed her in without a thought and she was in his office at the _palais de justice_ within minutes. Her heels against the familiar velvet carpets, she kept her gaze forward. She knocked thrice, as was her common habit, and entered once he called.

Robespierre was staring out the window behind his desk while Danton and Camille Desmoulins spoke but upon her entry, a hush fell upon them.

"Gentleman, please, do not let me disturb you." She forced a polite smile but the men simply shook their head. Danton smiled but it looked more like a shark's grin as he pulled a chair for her. Sitting down, she thanked him courteously and crossed one leg over the other underneath her dress.

"Ah, we were only waiting for you, my dearest." Robespierre's smile was almost genuine and if they had been under circumstances and had he been a different man, perhaps Genevieve would feel more at ease. "You're looking pale, _citoyenne.*_ Have you been eating?"

"As much as I can stomach _._ " She spoke quietly and even Danton was tamed under her soft tones. Ah, so these past few years had been worth it - the loss of her children, her husband, just to have these men under her thumb. It had been worth it - hadn't it?

"Perhaps I could offer you some biscuits and tea." Danton said stiffly and she pierced him with a levelled green glare that said _don't even try._ She was still proud, she would not let herself be finished by some poisoned biscuit.

"What were you all talking about?" She prompted and Desmoulins piped up immediately.

"Only revolutionary matters, _la marquise_."** At this, Robespierre gave the smaller man a interrogating look through dark eyes. Danton crossed his arms, sitting in the chair beside Genevieve while Robespierre turned away from the window, pulling out his own chair behind the desk. Camille remained the only one standing.

"And you do not care to expand?" She hummed coldly, "Do you forget, _monsieur,_ that I am one of the few that have funded your little _revolutionary_? How much I have sacrificed for a free Paris?" At this, he quietened. "How is little Horace, your son?"

"Very well, _citoyenne._ " He corrected and she let the set of her shoulders relax. He had a nervous air about him and she smirked when he looked away.

"Now be quiet, Desmoulins - the adults are speaking." Danton snapped. Genevieve gave the huge man a graceful little smile before turning her attention to Robespierre, all wit with none of the coyness she had used with Danton.

"What is it that has brought us all here?" She asked dryly and Robespierre picked up a letter at his deck, extending it towards her.

"I know you don't like guessing games, my dear," he murmured and she took the paper with a steady hand despite how spindly her appendage was. "A letter, from an Austrian general near Rochefort. It appears our dear _marquis_ is much closer than we'd thought." Her eyes scanned the words, her mind easily translating the French into English.

"So it seems," she said. "And what good does it do to tell me?" Robespierre's eyebrows rose in surprise and he seemed to contemplate his words before she handed the letter back. Stuffing down her guilt and worry, Genevieve met his eyes.

"Do you have any idea what he's doing by the front?" She had told him to run.

"Of course not." She scoffed before adding, "Are they ransoming off or killing him?" Her nonchalant tone must've convinced them for Robespierre folded the paper and Danton chuckled.

"Does it matter? He's locked in some Austrian prison and far from here. See how he'll invade France now." Genevieve swayed in her sweat and Danton's proud smirk fell off his face in genuine concern. " _Mademoiselle_ Genevieve," he started, a gigantuan hand on her arm. Robespierre frowned and Camille's eyes widened as she stood abruptly. Her skin had lost all its colour and she leaned to one side.

"How much has she been eating?" she heard one of them ask but it all became a blur.

"Don't just stand there, do _something._ "

"Call a doctor."

" _Max, it might be easier to just let her die."_ Camille's weasley voice came through and she had the strength to force her eyes open, snarling at the small man before the floor rushed up to meet her.

" _You fool, then where will our aristocratic standing go? Where will the heart of our revolution be left to?"_ Robespierre's calm voice countered the panic inside her as she tried to move but it was as if the air was honey. She couldn't break free.

Danton lowered her to the ground carefully and felt for her pulse as Camille ran out to call for a doctor. Genevieve struggled to keep her eyes open but Danton was telling her to keep quiet.

"Save your strength, _citoyenne._ Damn, where is that doctor?"

.

When she woke, it was dusk outside and she was in her bed at the manor. A doctor was by her side and Gerard was just placing a hot teapot on the table. Clearing her throat, she eased herself up into a sitting position. Gerard straightened immediately, wet eyes shedding few tears as he embraced her tightly.

"Genevieve, you're alright." She smiled guiltily as he brushed some of her loose hair back as a father would. "You scared me half to death!"

"It's a wonder you're still here." She teased as the doctor closed his bag. "What's the diagnosis?"

"You need to eat more, and sleep more. You're underweight and you passed out due to exhaustion." Gerard made a disapproving sound where he perched on the side of her bed and she glared at him half-heartedly. He gave her a look that said ' _I told you so.'_ "Especially after the baby, you seemed to be underweight. Is everything alright?"

"Just fine. I'll take better care of yourself and if not, I have Gerard to baby me." The older man smiled weakly as the doctor nodded.

"I'll send you the bill. I hope not to see you again under such dramatic circumstances, _marquise de_ Lafayette."

As soon as he was gone, Genevieve felt something settle in her gut and she turned to Gerard. Recollection of the moments before her blackout came back in a rush. "Get a pen and paper. This is urgent - then, I will eat and rest." Normally he'd resist but under the green fury of her gaze, he could not find the heart within him to say no.

 _September 24, 1792_

"You don't get a say. It's because of your inaction that they're caught in this mess!" Thomas Jefferson's voice resonated through the halls, waking whoever was not already risen and startling Georges from where he tended to his baby sister. Virgine's second-year birthday was quickly approaching in November and Georges had planned to spoil her rotten.

"When did you receive this? There might be time to-"

"So now you wish to aid him - now that it personally affects _you._ " There was a loud crack and Georges immediately rose, carrying his sister and depositing her in her crib.

" _Je vais revenir bientôt._ "*** He whispered before whisking himself away down the hall. Young Angelica's head poked out her door but he strode past, for the kitchen. Mr. Hamilton was standing there along with Thomas. The tension crackled in the air, thick as fog. Mrs. Hamilton was just entering, face contorted in annoyance.

"Does Washington know?" Mr. Hamilton asked weakly, holding a paper in his hands and Georges cleared his throat.

"Know what?" Thomas immediately simmered down at Georges' voice, his rage covered by the strain to shield the young Lafayette. "Is it Mama? Did she write?" It had been almost a month since her last letter that had come for their birthday. Georges knew his sister wrote to her but always discarded them before they could be sent.

" _It has to be perfect, Georges."_ She had said.

"Georges," Mr. Hamilton pinched the bridge of his nose, "let the adults talk. Eliza," he turned to his wife who only regarded him coldly. Of course, the two were not presently on speaking terms - made worse by his refusal to come to the upstate with Aunt Angelica and Mrs. Hamilton. Wincing, he sighed, "please." The woman only turned back to the drawing room as Georges walked up to Thomas. He was ten now, he was an _adult._ He could handle it.

"Thomas, is it Mama?" The Secretary's face softened, "Is she alright?"

"I'll tell you everything, I promise." His voice lost languor, words precise and short. "I just need to speak with the President before I do. Can you wait, soldier?" Georges bit his lip, studying the man's face.

" _Oui,_ "

"Good." Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder and Georges felt the worry and fear radiating off the man. He wasn't as good at hiding his feelings as he thought. "He doesn't know - but I intend for you all to know. This is your doing."

.

Earlier that day, when Thomas Jefferson had received the mail, he had caught a glimpse of Genevieve's name and immediately prioritized it above all else. Ripping it open, he unfolded the page and saw the scrawl that was her's in essence but much more loose and messy.

 _Dear Thomas Jefferson,_

 _To the point: This letter is to inform you that the Austrians have captured my husband. My knowledge of his whereabouts and his future destination is, at best, a guess, and he will not be released from Luxembourg until the Austrian government and Robespierre meet a compromise and I know Robespierre - he will keep Lafayette rotting away in an Austrian prison if that prevented my husband from invading Paris._

 _Due to the inaction of our mother country, Thomas, your dear friend could very well be dead._

 _How am I to face the children then?_

 _I know very well that it is not your fault and I do not hold you responsible. But you may very well remind His Excellency President Washington and his right hand man, the Secretary of the Treasury, that I thought that the bonds made during times of war could not be broken so easily. I thought I could rely on someone I thought a father and a brother for support but it is clear that it was just a one-sided affair._

 _I won't ask America to intervene in international affairs again. This is traitorous enough to Robespierre's eyes as it is._

 _Yours,_

 _Genevieve Alcott, la marquise_ _de Lafayette_

He slammed the letter down on the desk before him and leaned onto his hands, shoulders hunching as he closed his eyes tight. Taking a few deep breaths, he opened the envelope once more to slide the letter back in only to find another piece of paper.

 _To the Secretary of State,_

 _You are not alone in mourning for the marquis. I am useless - the only thing I can is stand by this woman's side, but I know of others. Angelica Church, for example, and her husband. And I know there must be some loophole that at least allows Lafayette's time in prison to be much easier. Not only will it help him, perhaps it will put the marquise at ease as well._

 _Thank you, for all you have tried to do,_

 _Gerard de LaCroix_

 **A/N: Thank you for all the support during my hiatus. I promise, this story will see an end.**

 **REVIEWS:**

 **RiseUpWiseUp: Same bro, same - there'll be more of her later**

 **Guest (1): He is. I love him.**

 **TabbyCat: Thanks for the review. I can't wait to experiment with the two different worlds that will collide soon.**

 **Dulharpa: HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY! I'm so glad you liked last chapter and hopefully you'll like this one :)**

 **Sarah-The-Slytherin: Well, here you go! A new chapter fresh off the doc.**

 *** "You're looking pale, _citoyenne..."_ citoyenne (for women) and citoyen (for men) were used in place of madame/mademoiselle and monsieur as the Paris Commune ordered i on August 22 of the same year.**

 **** "Only revolutionary matters, _la marquise_." Camille's the only smart one here, reminding everyone in the room that Genevieve is still married to Lafayette. Robespierre, of course, doesn't take too kindly to referring allies as enemies.**

 *****" _Je vais revenir bientôt._ " I will return soon in French.**


	28. Reign of Terror

**A/N: In this chapter, I say fuck it, this is the breaking point for Genevieve. We all saw it coming. She ain't ever gonna be the same. And now I'm thinking of a bittersweet ending for our leading man and woman, but who knows?**

* * *

 **Chapter 28: Reign of Terror**

 _January 21, 1793_

The King's head found a basket quickly and Genevieve was forced to look upon it where she stood besides Danton on the raised platform. Everything inside her was numb, and she did not look away.

She began to plan their demise instead.

 _July 10, 1793_

The _marquise de_ Lafayette invited a woman over to her manor in the most inconspicuous way possible. Just a simple letter, addressed plainly and to the point.

They had dinner in a quiet house that used to be full of life over meals that had long since lost their taste. Charlotte Corday was a pretty lady with a long face and faded auburn hair. Her grey eyes were sharp, quick, and when Genevieve asked a simple question, the answer was yes.

"And you know you may not make it out alive?" She asked and the other woman nodded. "It's not often I speak with a Girondist sympathizer on such friendly terms."

"It's not often I speak with one of the leaders of the revolution on such friendly terms so don't think yourself so lonely." Genevieve raised a cup of tea to her lips, smiling though not with her eyes. She would not smile with joy until her husband was safe and her children were in her arms.

"I will make sure every request you have will be fulfilled. Just ask it of me." Corday said she will. "Thank you, _mademoiselle._ You will have done me a great favour."

"Let me ask you this one thing, then." The grey-eyed woman leaned forward on her elbows, her meal ignored. Genevieve set down her cup and saucer, watching her stoically. "Why? What's in it for you, to betray everything you've ever worked for?" At that, an ironic smile carved its way into Genevieve's cheeks.

"Things are not all as they seem, Corday. I love my husband more than I fear Robespierre or any of his dogs."

"That's it? Hard to believe with the show you've put on for _years._ But, let us say I humour you. All this, for your husband? How shallow," a dry smile, "and here I thought there was someone left in Paris who still cared for their home. I should've expected nothing less from a _foreigner_." Genevieve stood, though not imposingly and Gerard entered the room, coming to collect the plates and leaving just as quickly as Corday matched her stance.

"I'd do anything for a safe France. But it is my husband and my children who grant me strength - the thought that I may one day see them again, that I may hold them in my arms." Her fingers extend to Gerard as he returned without breaking eye contact from the woman in front of her. A cold handle pressed into her palm and she took the dagger, twirling it smoothly between her digits so the grip was offered to the Girondist. "I'm sure we are more alike than you think, _mademoiselle._ "

With a tremulous hand, Charlotte Corday took the unsigned weapon. Smooth silver, light, good grip. Genevieve herself had determined is a fine weapon for a one-time use. It was cheap, for its quality. A smile that did not match the time appeared on Charlotte's face. A huge, giant grin which held the sun and all its light. The grey-eyed lady chuckled and sighed almost dreamily. It was the look of a dead man, a man who had signed his own death warrant and was at peace at last. A man who had found their mission in life, their reason.

"Goodnight, _madame la marquise,_ and goodbye. Dinner was lovely."

" _Adieu._ My prayers are with you, always." And the dead man walked out her dining hall, never to step foot in her manor again.

.

A week later, Charlotte Corday was executed for the murder of Jean-Paul Marat. Genevieve made sure every last request the dead woman walking had was fulfilled, including a professional portrait, already paid out of the _marquise_ 's own pocket.

She always paid her dues.

 _April 2, 1794_

No one should doubt how powerful words can be. Danton knew how true this was. As Genevieve cradled Georges Danton's face days before his execution, he saw the truth in her eyes - the vixen that betrayed them all.

"This is for my husband." She whispered flatly, softly. It was a tone she used once to calm him in a meeting against Robespierre and he was sure it was the tone she used to speak in his ear. Like some cheap _whore_ , trying to seduce Robespierre with her pretty lies. It wouldn't work.

But it worked on him, didn't it?

" _Va te faire enculer._ "* Georges spat in her face and she slapped him hard across the cheek. Straightening up, she walked away from his cell.

* * *

" _Citoyenne…_ " _Geor_ ges Danton opened his door to the face of Genevieve Alcott. She entered with the grace even the Queen did not possess as his son ran into the hall. Crouching down, she embraced his child. His wife carried his youngest, entering after Antoine.

" _Madame_ Genevieve! You're here!"** Picking Antoine up, Genevieve tickled the child's cheek.

"It's nice to see you again, _madame._ " Turning, the visitor smiled at Louise*** who held François. "What brings you here?" They made their way to the parlor and Danton crossed his arms, the corner of his lip twitching into a smile.

"I need only speak to your husband." Genevieve set Antoine back down. "I know my visit is unannounced, I hope I'm not interrupting." The woman was wearing a flattering dress that showed off her figure, the fabric the shade of her eyes.

"Of course not. Come on, Antoine. Let's go take a bath." The children left along with Louise and Danton sat down, offering a chair silently to the woman.

"Is there a particular reason to this visit?"

"Yes." Her tone was quiet with sympathy as she sat. "I know what you did. How you got the money. Subtlety and modesty were never your strong suits. What were you thinking, you idiot?"

"I-"

"D'Églantine is arrested for being implicated in this scandal and you still defend him? People are right to be wary of you right now, Danton. They could have you arrested!" Her concern lowered her voice to a hiss, "And what will your family do then? Your children, Louise?" Danton looked away guiltily. He wasn't thinking - the money was just _there_. Her face softened and her voice was calmer, "Don't worry, _mon chéri._ Just tell me everything and perhaps I can speak to Robespierre; perhaps the punishment won't be as severe."

Danton stood, running beefy hands through his thinning hair. "It wasn't me alone."

"Of course not," she murmured as she stood. A hand on his arm, she gave him a reassuring smile. Leading him back to the divan, she sat beside him, perched like a pretty bird on a twig. "But I know for a fact that the Committee of Public Safety will not be pleased upon hearing the appropriation of the Company."****

"There's no proof-"

"Now, now, Danton. How do you think I've come about this slice of information?" She cut him off coldly, hands retreating to fold neatly in her lap, crossing a leg over the other under her skirts. "I can tell you that Robespierre does not appreciate being pulled from his slumber for matters that could have been avoided."

"You - _Robespierre?_ " _No... no way a man like Robespierre-_

"Don't be _stupid,_ Danton. Infidelity does not suit people like us." She stood, heading towards the open kitchen. Danton sat frozen, watching her pour herself a cup of tea Louise made. She always did that before taking the children up for a bath. "We discuss treachery over our afternoon tea, and when François Chabot burst into his bedchambers, speaking of blackmail and venality in members of the Convention, it makes for interesting coversation. And how strange, that among that blabber, your name came among it along with others, who coincidentally, appear to be Dantonists."

" _Madame-_ "

"He's probably going to be sent to the guillotine. You wouldn't want the same fate to befall on you. Your poor children, sweet little Antoine and darling François, he's only one, and so _very precious._ You do not want them to grow up without a father, do you?"

"Of course not, _madame._ "

"All you need to do," she turned back towards him, cup and saucer in hand, "is write down every name you know that could've been part of this scheme. And perhaps, Robespierre will be persuaded to spare you. After all, you've done so much for our revolution." Danton headed for his study, preparing his quill and paper. "I expect the list by sunrise." She left half-empty teacup on the glass table, brushing a hand along the surface. "Can I expect this of you?"

So overwhelmed was he by her barrage, of the guilt of what he had done to his sons, he did not realize that he would incriminate himself in the end. "Y-yes, _madame."_

.

 _He knocked on her d_ oor the following morning, the paper in his hands. Her butler opened the door and took the sheet before retreating, though the door did not close. Instead, she appeared in the frame and smiled.

"Thank you for your service, Danton. I'll make sure your children are safe." And with that, the door closed in his face.

* * *

 _April 5, 1794_

Georges Danton and Camille Desmoulins and all their friends were accused for a list of crimes that could've touched her toes had it all been on paper. It was quick, proper, and Genevieve felt Robespierre's eyes on her when they escorted Camille's lifeless body off the stage.

"Are you alright?" He asked and she frowned.

"Are you? He was your childhood friend, was he not?"

"There is no loss in traitors. I asked about _you._ " Genevieve only regarded this man who would soon die beside her and shook her head before returning her sights to the guillotine. Camille Desmoulins died third; she wondered when Georges Danton would die.

"I'm just fine." His hand landed on her shoulder and she could hear his slight smile in his words.

"Good. It's just the two of us now, Genevieve, and I think it best we share the same mindset." His words followed after her as he turned and walked away. They were bringing up the next man to be killed and Genevieve only felt a sick turn of her stomach. She had made two boys fatherless, a sixteen year-old girl a widow with no assets. It was in the name of justice, was it not?

* * *

 _She had found Louise at her condemned hu_ sband's house, cradling his children who would not remember who their father truly was.

"I'm sorry, I did all I could." She had said, lying through her teeth. Yet she had still extended a hand, "Come. Do you have any family you can stay with?"

"My father." She took the older woman's hand, trying to hide tears.

"Good. You are not staying in this house."

* * *

Genevieve did not focus on the executions until she saw a face she knew well. The face of a snarling bulldog, but his face was fresh with sweat and his expression was one of terror. Robespierre did not say anything but she knew he silently thanked her for the list. The list of his enemies she had spoon fed him. She will by his side but not for long.

There was a huge mob, screaming profanities and wishing death upon him as if Danton would not look the Grim Reaper in the eye soon enough. It lasted a long time and Genevieve half-wondered why and then decided she didn't care. The humiliation the man faced was longer than any of the others before the metal rang in her ears when the blade was released. There was a sick crunch, then a morbid silence.

When not another body was brought up, she realized Robespierre's message behind it.

Georges Danton was executed last. He was to be made a show out of by his own ally.

 _There is only humiliation in treachery._

 _July 20, 1794_

"Is it reasonable?" Robespierre turned to her, worn lines in his face and a crease in his brow. She was his only companion as of late but he was not hers. She offered him a cup of tea. He took it and sipped without a moment's thought.*****

"You think spreading word about a counter-revolutionary conspiracy in the Convention will be enough to save you? Words can only do so much to protect a man accused of your crimes." She settled a hand on his shoulder, dark eyes reaching his.

"Is the speech not ready?" He asked and she looked to the study where his papers were scattered all over. She had read every single word.

"It's fine." She turned away, heading for said room. "Granted, it's not your best work." Gathering up the essay, her hand brushed over the letter that she had drafted earlier today. It was addressed to her children and her sisters. If only she had the time and energy to complete it these days. "You can leave, Robespierre. I wish to retire early."

"Of course." He took his sheets back from her with a weary grimace. Under her scrutiny, she could see how desperate he was. Loss of public favour was something she knew _eerily_ well.

"You are aware that this will not quell the rumours or attacks."

"It is better to try than to lie down and die." A pause, "I'll escort myself out, Genevieve _._ "

"Goodnight, Maximillien." She heard herself say though she did not turn to watch him leave. Instead, she waited for Gerard to come and confirm his exit.

The butler pulled her into a hug wordlessly and she clutched onto him with all the strength she had left, "Write to your family. To the women you call your sisters. Take comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Please. You are not yourself."

"And how can I do that, Gerard, when the fall of Robespierre is just beyond my reach? I cannot stop working - I will not let another purge of men and women go by. Do you know what they will call this era? The _Reign of Terror,_ where the guillotine rusts from blood." She pulled away and turned back to her desk where her husband had sat many days at a time, barely seeing the light of day. How much she ached for him to be here - never seeing him, yes, but at least she knew he was safe. Justice and revenge; the lines were getting blurry. Still, she was so _close._

Brushing past her nonsense draft letters, she opened the drawer to the right.

 _G.L._ She ran gentle fingers over the sheathed blade before closing it shut again. Leaning against the desk, she heaved a sigh.

" _Madame,_ if not, then perhaps a letter."

"Leave me, Gerard. I did not lie to him when I said I want to sleep."

"This letter is _important._ " The sense of urgency in his tone made her stand straight and turn to him.

"From who?"

"The American Secretary of State."

.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow wryly at the second serving of his meal as well as a new set of clothes.

"What is this?" He asked quietly, not reaching for it yet - this could be some sick joke. He wasn't fed more than twice a day - a third meal? "Is this poisoned?" He was given no answer and just took his chance, reaching for the tray. The clothes were large and he first changed into the pants. They were soft, though plain, and smelled fresh, like wind, like _Genevieve._ Oh, how he missed his wife. He retreated to the corner of his cell where his bed was and began to unfold the shirt when something hard dropped out. Frowning, he picked up an envelope where it nearly landed on his bread and butter.

" _Quoi?_ " The paper was thick and crisp and when he read it, it was in a slanted font he hadn't seen in what felt like years.

 _To my dearest friend,_

 _It is my brilliant mind that has found a loophole. What is this loophole you ask? Well, how do you feel about being paid for your services as a major general for the 6 years you served, with interest?_

Lafayette's eyebrows rose and a disbelieving smile crossed his lips.

 _I had assumed your answer was yes so the answer was rushed to Congress, to Washington's desk._

 _I hope the money grants you a more lavish lifestyle while you are incarcerated._

 _Yours,_

 _Thomas Jefferson_

 **A/N: Ending the second chapter with another letter in regards to Thomas Jefferson. I hope you guys liked it, I know I did, and if you say Genevieve is out of character and out for blood, consider what she's gone through the past few chapters.**

 **I'll answer reviews next chapter.**

 *** " _Va te faire enculer."_ Go fuck yourself in French.**

 **** " _Madame Genevieve! You're here!"_ This suggests that Genevieve is a regular visitor.**

 ***** _Turning, the visitor smiled at Louise…_ Louise was Danton's sixteen-year old wife whom he married after his first wife died. She took care of his two sons, Antoine and François.**

 ****** "… _upon hearing the appropriation of the Company."_ Danton and co. tried to appropriate the wealth of the French East India Company which was the most serious accusation in his trial. François Chabot denounced Danton and he was also implicated by another, Fabre d'Églantine', who was connected to the scandal as well. Everyone was accusing everyone else - it was kind of crazy.**

 ******* _He took it and sipped without a moment's thought._ That's an awful lot of trust you're putting in Genevieve, Robespierre. **


	29. Heart Against Mind

**A/N: Unedited.**

* * *

 **Chapter 29: Heart Against Mind**

 _July 27, 1794_

Genevieve regarded the plate of food that was shoved into her cell. Just the day before she had surrendered to a platoon of gendarmes and now, in her prison cell, she wondered if this is how Lafayette had been feeling for years. Her dress was soiled, soaking in every bit of wet dust and dirt.

For once, her mind seemed to be at rest. It seemed to have been eons ago when her greatest fear was losing Lafayette to war. She never thought she could withstand such torture - to lose everything she ever held dear. A few fraying grey hairs fell across her eyes and she brushed them back, another hand rubbing the soles of her feet. Her heels had been discarded the first hour.

But, although her mind was at rest, her heart felt hollow. What crimes had she committed? Enlisting an assassin, seducing a mind for Danton's secrets - and for what? In the end, it all felt hopeless. Lying against the wall where bars let light stream in above, she traced patterns in the dust. She wrote her husband's name, then her children's, each carefully and as clearly as she could.

 _Lafayette. Emmeline. Georges. Virginie._

Then she thought of every man and woman. Of her father, her sister, her brother. The Schuylers, Ollie back in the inn and his daughter Theresa, Hercules. Of John, little Magda, Peggy's son she still didn't know the name of. Alexander, and Washington, men she had yet to forgive, and Thomas Jefferson, who had risked everything for them.

Danton, who had left a family behind, Camille who loved his wife, Jean-Paul Marat who had been confined to a piteous medicinal bath but still fought for a free France, Robespierre who had a brother incarcerated along with him. All _humans_ who loved, not at all monsters to some. She thought for the first time in a long time of Harcourt, who had his own problems. But in the end, wasn't he human? Sick, yes. Twisted, yes, but still human.

 _Maybe I'm as bad as them._ She mused, enervated. _I've sacrificed enough, haven't I?_

"There has to be some other way, _madame,_ " a voice whispered thinly through the bars and she looked up, seeing Gerard's lined face. She made no move to get up, only stared at him with dull eyes.

"It's over, Gerard," she says slowly as if it'll help him understand, "Give him and the children my regards."

"No, Gen-"

"What else can I do?" Her gaze falls to the names she had traced in the grime. A eery smile fell upon lips when Gerard stared at his lady. She looked small, skin pale as her face peered between bars.

"I'll think of something."

"Gerard-"

"No. I will not lose you, too." And with that, the butler backed away from the bars and Genevieve was left alone with her demons.

 _July 28, 1794_

Robespierre's jaw was bandaged, blood seeping through the cloth. Through short, painful sentences, he explained to her a soldier had shot him through the thin walls of the prison cell. Of course, he had been locked up next to her. He confessed if they had been under different circumstances, if they were in a different world, perhaps they would've been in love. She tells him plainly that she'd never stopped loving her husband.

"That was one of the circumstances, _madame._ I knew you loved him yet, somehow, I fooled myself into thinking differently. Perhaps it was because I had finally met my equal."

"You only knew a hoax," she commented, "For such a perceptive man, consider me disappointed. I had thought you would've realized that." She knew he was only being honest now because of his impending death. Better to die honest than to live a liar. She played with the edge of her skirts as he inhaled and exhaled, breathing labored. His voice was tight with pain but he spoke anyways.

"The revolution was in our way."

"Robespierre-"

"As were our countries." To her surprise, she laughed.

"I would've never loved you."

"I did say 'had we been in a different world', or did I forget to mention that?" He asked dryly and she banged the prison cell wall they share bluntly with a closed fist.

"Still. If Lafayette exists in this other world, there will never be a day where I wouldn't love him. And even if he didn't, I would never love someone like you. Even if the universe pushes us every way together, it would never be. I will always be searching for someone like him and nothing less _._ "

"Your loyalty is admirable. He's a very lucky man." That made her raise her eyebrows. There was a long bout of silence where they just leaned against the same wall on opposite sides. "I'm curious - do you hate me, _marquise_?"

"In political games, feelings cannot be involved; they cannot affect tactical decisions," said Genevieve.

"And your turns were well-played." He allowed her to brush it off. He was resigned to his fate, and perhaps regretful of what he had done to come to this point. There was no hostility in his tone, just cold, deep, woe. "It was a pleasure to have you play my game, Genevieve."

"I wish I was never a player, Maximilien. I'm sorry."

"Why?" She didn't have an answer. Instead, she said:

"In another world, perhaps we could've been friends." Because she wasn't really sure if she knew the difference between hate and hurt anymore.

The evening was unexpectedly cool and Genevieve could see the fear in his eyes. She stood at the end of the line and he stood at the front of the line, she doesn't think she needs to know what he's thinking for once. Her dress, spoilt, was withering but the fabric held its own against the chill. Their last conversation played in her head when he chanced a final glance back. He's disheveled, clothes ragged. He asked the question silently once more with his eyes.

 _Do you hate me,_ marquise?

She looked away. Why did it matter to him so much anyways?

When he's escorted up onto the stage, a huge uproar from the crowd deafens her ears. _To think they were cheering his name only years ago._ She thought bitterly. The guard holding onto the cuffs around her wrists and ankles had a hand along the chains.

" _Madame la marquise,_ " he hissed in her ear and she ignored him bluntly. She hadn't even bothered to look into his face - there was no point in familiarizing herself with her death. " _Madame,_ look at me."

"Leave me alone," she murmured under her breath as the guillotine slid with a high-pitched _sling_ and ended in a _thunk._ Unlike as expected, no weight lifted off her shoulders. Instead, it settled heavier and her legs turned to lead. She was forced forward by the gendarme but her knees felt weak.

"Genevieve," the guard continued to probe at her until she finally turned her head sharply up at him, eyes narrowing as she stared into the face of Louis-Philippe. Her breath caught and she whipped around, backing away. When she bumped into the man in front of her and was shoved back, she hated herself for being caught by the soldier.

" _You._ You're… here?"

"And I thought you'd be more eager to see a friend." He pulled her close and held the chains in his hands. Lowering his lips by her ear, he whispered without making it seem inconspicuous, "Imagine my surprise when Rochambeau contacts me out of nowhere. And so soon, just out of prison."

"What of it?"

"My surprise that not only did the Lafayette butler had contacted him, but that his release was issued under the orders of the _madame la marquise_. A wife of a supposed traitor to France." The letter she had written just a month before, of course, asking for the release of her old commanding officer. Robespierre had approved it after she had convinced him that he was no threat. "Am I right to believe that you are still on _our_ side?"

"And what side is that, Louis? It's been years - much has changed."

"Do you believe in Robespierre? Or what was of him?" It was a simple question that she knew the answer of. Her silence was his answer. "Then I have a plan to get you out of here. But I need you to trust me." She took a deep breath and offered one open palm behind her back which he took with one of his own gloved hands.

"I trust you."

"Good." They moved ahead until they were at the stairs. The crowd hadn't ceased their screaming, their hunger never being fulfilled for death.

"If I die, it's your fault," she breathed as she was urged up the stairs. When the crowd caught sight of her, it was almost as if they became frenzied. Their faces were morphed with rage, some people even trying to climb up the stage as she saw the russet stains on the executioner. One man had just lost their head when someone grabbed the edge of her skirts. Yelping, she jumped away towards Louis. He brought a boot down on the offending hand and the citizen became lost in the sea once more.

"Genevieve Alcott, _madame la marquise._ " Any charges, any words the judge would've said was drowned out by the crowd. Louis let go and she walked on unsteady legs towards the guillotine. Glancing over her shoulder, she wondered if Louis was just giving her false hope.

When she was forced to her knees, she finally let the reality of it all hit her. She was going to die. So she let herself listen to whatever the crowd was saying, tried to decipher the mess of words until finally it all synchronized and her heart stopped.

" _Vive la France libre! Vive la marquise de Lafayette! Vive la femme qui a tué Jean-Paul Marat!_ "* She didn't understand. They didn't know - how could they know? The chanting overwhelmed the judge who looked shocked at the support as the crowd began to struggle against the line of guards. There was a gunshot, screams and she's tugged to her feet as one of the citizens reach the stage and tackle the judge. Louis knocked out the man who controlled the guillotine and pulled her up. She tugged up her skirts, and he crouched down, unlocking the chains before doing the same with her wrists.

"Come."

"Is this your plan? Rely on the public favour?" She demanded as they jumped off the stage, disappearing in the ocean of men and women who were running. There were corpses, bleeding from fresh wounds but they were far and few in between. Running down the streets, the wind caught her hair as they left the crowd behind them.

"No. It was to spread copies of your cheques to the Corday family, for the portrait, for everything. It was to spread testimonies from Danton's wife of what you did to ensure his death. It was Rochambeau's word in the public newspapers that you didn't receive in prison. I'm not stupid, Genevieve."

"You were a decade ago," she shot back and he sent her a look. They arrived at a bakery where a horse awaited her. Gerard was holding the reins with an anxious expression written across his face. When he saw her, the expression vanishes and she ran into his embrace.

"You're safe! That means the plan worked!"

"It did. You're brilliant." She nearly crushed his bones when Louis cleared his throat.

"We have a tight schedule, _madame._ " He shoved something urgently between her hands just as Gerard secured a cloak around her. The very same cloak she had used to disguise herself when she smuggled her children out of France. "Take it. It's money that will last you until the Austrian border. And this," he continued as she tucked the item into her cloak, "is a letter to the Austrian king. It'll explain who you are, why, and what to do with you."

"Louis-"

"Hush, you stupid woman. Now, get on that horse and ride." Genevieve, overwhelmed, could not do anything but to hug the soldier in front of her. Mounting the horse, she couldn't help but miss her old steed back in America. She hadn't thought of dear Châtain in years.

"This saddlepack is filled with food, clothes, a gun and his dagger." Gerard laid a hand on her thigh as she grappled the reins. "The Austrian government will pass you over to the American consul in Hamburg. There, you will find a property near there that belongs to me." He extended a map towards her which she unraveled, deciphering as much as she can from a quick glance before folding it and shoving it somewhere in her bag.

"We will meet again," she promised Louis. For a moment, she regarded the soldier she had met over a decade ago. He was older now, wiser, but he still watched her the same, "Don't get into too much trouble."

"I'll try, Genevieve." His smile was bright in such a dark world and she ached to hug him - Gerard, too - again but time was of the essence. "Now, go."

 _August 5, 1794_

Lafayette didn't open his eyes when there was the distinct clanging of keys. After all, the longer he kept his eyes closed, the longer he could imagine himself anywhere but here. He thought maybe it to be the Austrian general whose name he didn't bother learning. His visits were rare and sparse and violent.

It was not time for a meal, he knew that much by the light that shone on his eyelids. But who was he to know? He barely knew what year it was, what day, what month, where he even was. His voice disappeared from lack of use. There was no one to talk to, and his eyes had well adjusted to the shadows of the room by now - if that wasn't worrisome enough, he couldn't remember the last time he couldn't count the dips between his ribs. This was his life now and every day he sent the same useless prayer - _God, don't let me die here._

"Let go of me! I can walk by myself!" A new voice, clean and untouched, yet rough. Feminine.

"Look," a guard said in weak French, His harsh accent grated on Lafayette's ears as he continued to keep his eyes closed, "There he is, though nothing more than a pathetic scrap of flesh at this point."

"The rogue general of France doesn't look like much anymore," the guard who always stood by his door informed, "It was the General's orders."

"I was promised that he was _alive._ " The cell door opened.

"He is." A rough kick to his side and he curled into a ball, groaning in pain. "See, _madame,_ full of life."

"I want new clothes for him and better lodgings. I'm sure that, at least, can be rearranged." That interested him. Opening his eyes, he could see the blurry shapes of a woman in a white blouse and riding pants as well as high leather riding boots.

"We don't take orders from you."

"But the King allowed me to order you around as much as I wish. Now go, and let me see him." The guard before him left the cell just as the woman entered. Lafayette pushed himself up, trying to understand why and how. When the door closed with a rattling that echoed in his bones, he finally allowed himself to meet her gaze.

"Genevieve?"

Her face appeared before his eyes. Many times he had wondered when he would be safe again, many times he had wondered when he would see her , all his prayers had been answered.

"Lafayette, my love," her voice pulsed with longing as they embraced tightly. For years it has been since his body has thrummed in response to another human. He wept, oh, he wept. Her own arms were strong around him as she knelt into his body. He buried his face in her neck, in her riding blouse as she rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"How are you here?" He wondered aloud, dazed and not quite sure if this was still a dream. But then he searched her green eyes and saw that this was his new reality. "Are you trapped-"

"No. No," she smelled of fresh wind and his lungs inhaled fully for the first time. He felt awake, and his eyes burned with tears as she cupped his face. "We're leaving." He could barely comprehend anything, nor could he say anything that wasn't gibberish so he kept quiet as she fussed over him. She inspected the gauntness of his cheeks, touched his waist and measured his wrists.

"I do not understand."

"I'll explain everything. I will," she promised, "but just allow us time to find somewhere safe so you can heal before we continue." He nodded, head resting on her collarbones. The tears cause his throat to close up and he hiccoughed, squeezing her tight. There was no moment where two were closer than they were now. Though he ached for her lips against his, he knew there were other things to worry about.

So instead, he allowed her to pet his hair, to hug him tight, to let her fool him into thinking that they were safe. And he wondered if her heart was as light as his when she wore the ring he had given her at last.

 _August 10, 1794_

"I have no idea how that worked."

"A strongly worded letter will bring one's self many places." Gerard smiled and Genevieve let out a breath, glancing at the door that hid her sleeping husband. "How is he?"

"Fine after I got some food in him. He's not injured badly - a few bruises, but," her voice shakes as she sits down on the couch, "I'm just glad."

"Now, all we need to do is recover the children."

"Or we can go to them." She yawned and stood, heading for the bedroom. "Goodnight, Gerard. We shall speak more in the morning."

"Of course, _madame._ " Opening the door, she slipped in and shed her clothes in exchange for a loose shirt. She slipped into the bed beside her husband and was surprised to see him still awake.

"How?" he asked and she wriggled closer towards him, settling in his embrace. For so long she had wished for this moment and her heart lightened. He smelled of soap and linen, and she finally pressed a long awaited kiss against his lips. It was searing hot, cracked, dry lips against soft ones as his hands roamed her body and hers traveled the expanse of his back. The kiss was one that woke the Sleeping Beauty, that broke spells, awoke a lover's heart, brought a dawn to a new day. One that left him starving for more.

"I presented myself before the King as a proxy for the French Republic. I agreed to the terms and we were to be turned over to the American consul of Hamburg, where we are now."

"It sounds so simple, when put like that," he laughed bitterly and her smile faded. If only he knew. She turned away and closed her eyes.

"If only it were so. Goodnight, Lafayette." She thought he would reach out for her, but perhaps he was just as exhausted as she was. She heard him shuffling, rolling over to face away from her as well, but didn't hear a reply. It was so unlike him and a pang collided with her chest, keeping her awake. _What did they do to you, my dearest?_

The same thought echoed in his mind as the two stayed awake throughout the whole night.

 _September 26, 1794_

Georges couldn't remember a day where he was quite so excited. Carrying Virginie around on his back, he paced the length of the harbour while Emmeline chatted cheerily with Aunt Ettie and Uncle Bennett.

 _We're finally going to see Mama!_ He had been holding onto this moment for so long, it was as if every dream had been made a reality. He had even allowed Aunt Eliza to style his hair just the way she wanted to.

"Stop pacing, Georges," Emmeline called out, "you're making me dizzy."

"If you faint, Philip will catch you," he retorted as Virginie's arms tightened around his neck. The blush on his sister's cheeks made him smirk victoriously as Uncle Alex crossed his arms, sitting beside his wife. Eliza gave him a glare and stood, going to stand by Aaron Burr. Georges thought that was a bit peculiar but gave it no mind as Aunt Peggy came by and swiped Virginie up from him.

"You'll tucker yourself out if you continue like this."

"No, I won't." She gave him the same glare Eliza gave Alexander and he pouted, retreating back to where the others sat. Magda and James** were playing some stupid hand game next to him but Georges only wished Mr. Jefferson were here. _He said he would be here. Is he late again?_

There was a ship just docking and he began to jump in his seat when someone beside him giggled. Surprised, he glanced at this girl who wore a pale pink dress and a ribbon in her hair to tie back her curls.

"Hello," he mumbled and she waved, wiggling her fingers.

"Theodosia, come here." The girl rolled her eyes, and hopped off but Georges couldn't help but leave his jaw hanging.

"Close your mouth before the flies crawl in," Hercules muttered, patting him on the back as Georges managed to snap out of his daze. "They're disembarking now." He stood, trying to peer over the numerous heads as, at last and fashionably late, Thomas Jefferson appeared in the throng. His vibrant tailcoat was easy to spot as he lead two figures through the crowd.

Georges' heart leapt to his throat when he caught a flash of green eyes and the signature bun he wore his own hair in. Sprinting forward, he let out a joyous scream. The usually stoic child felt like he was just four or five again as one of the figures crouched down. He crashed into his father just as Emmeline knocked their mother off her feet.

" _Maman, Papa!_ " He sobbed, clutching onto his cloak as if he didn't, he'd disappear. " _Je t'aime, Papa._ Don't leave again." His gibberish of French and English was barely decipherable as his father hugged him tight. He smelled of salt and sea, like a stranger, but when Georges pulled back and Lafayette brushed away the tears with his thumbs and cupped his face, he knew it was truly him.

" _Maman_ ," Emmeline was in a similar state as Genevieve ran her hands through her daughter's hair. Lafayette picked up his son as if he were just a child, though he was already twelve, and spun him around.

"You've gotten so big and strong, _mon ange._ " Genevieve got up again and Emmeline latched onto her leg as they made their way back to the group. Her arms opened up and Ettie was already there along with Bennett, hugging the dear life out of her. Eliza and Peggy piled on/

Hercules and John embraced Lafayette similarly before the two French citizens turned to the Secretary of State.

"Thank you, Thomas," Genevieve whispered, kissing him on the cheek before hugging him. Tears streamed down her face as she let out an ugly, breathless laugh. Lafayette beamed at his old friend and they shook firmly.

"Aren't you forgetting one member?" John asked at last and turned to Virginie who wore a green dress to mirror her eyes. She had the dark hair of her father and when Genevieve inhaled sharply, she stood and approached her mother.

" _Maman?_ "

" _C'est moi,_ " she whispered and Virginie lunged into her just as Genevieve crouched. Holding her littlest girl in her arms, Genevieve couldn't help but feel displaced. All this love while France witnessed such bloodshed - she'd never be free from that. She lost her children growing up, she lost years without her sister, father, brother.

"Emmeline and Georges told me all about you," she announced proudly in fluent French, "and I love you!"

"I love you too, _ma chérie._ " Burrowing her face in her daughter's hair, Genevieve picked her up while holding her tight. Maybe this displacement could feel good, with time. She raked her tear-filled gaze across her friends and family, and thought _maybe._

But her heart said _no._ Even when Lafayette pressed a kiss to her temple, she couldn't help but feel that this wasn't right.

 **A/N: Where I reference every possible character ever and even bring back Louis-Philippe, a real OG player, and change history because originally, Lafayette didn't escape prison until around 1797. Weird, I strangely like Robespierre after this.**

 **This isn't the end - we still have some bittersweet chapters to go through.**

 **REVIEWS:**

BriCat03: I have dramatic tendencies. Thanks for reviewing!

 **Kitty of 2 kingdoms: Yep, and although they're in America now, it ain't over yet.**

 **Dulharpa: I think Eliza is more than annoyed. I want to include the children more now that they're all reunited.**

 **baileybubbles: I corrected it as soon as you reviewed so thank you for correcting me! Also, imagine Spanish Lafayette. Oh my... not a great image. Thanks for the review!**

 ** _* "Vive la France libre! Vive la marquise de Lafayette! Vive la femme qui a tué Jean-Paul Marat!_ " Long live free France! Long live the marquise de Lafayette. Long live the woman who killed Jean-Paul Marat.**

 ** _** Magda and James…_ James is Peggy and John's son, Magda their daughter.**


	30. Silence

**Chapter 30: Silence**

 _October 2, 1794_

Genevieve shot up, sweat drenching her face as she glanced around her. Letting out a relieved sigh, she settled back down besides her husband and staring at the ceiling. Her hands fold in her abdomen and she tried to fall back asleep. Counting the sound of the ticking of the clock in their room, she managed to get to a hundred before sitting up.

"Genevieve? Are you alright?" Lafayette's hand cradled her hip as he pushed himself up on his hand and kissed the spot below her jaw.

"I'm fine," she said and he made a sound in the back of his throat. Turning towards him, she kissed him fully on his lips and he smiled into her touch, "And you? How are the dreams?" His smile faltered and her hand that had touched his cheek fell away.

"Such nightmares will not be cured for a long time, _ma chérie._ " She pulled the covers back and he scrambled to follow after her. "But you help, Gen. You always have."

"And what of me?" Her mind flashed back to Robespierre's chopped head, his crooked, bloody smile. Danton's terrified face, his children's chubby faces. He came behind her and stopped her before she could open the door, body pressing against hers. He was just regaining weight, fed a hearty three meals a day courtesy and at the insistence of Eliza herself. He rubbed her arms, face burrowing in the crook of her neck. His lips brushed across her skin.

"Let me help." She opened the door and turned to him, green eyes meeting dark brown.

"Then come. Let us visit the children." Extending a hand, a ghost smile appeared on her face as his palm fit against hers.

 _January 1, 1795_

Their kisses faded. The distance between them widened to a chasm. The night of the new year was full of tipped champagne and they fell to their sheets like rabid animals.

The morning after, she refused to look at him and he refused to look at her. Words were left unsaid and a silence heavy with regret filled the air.

 _June 14, 1795_

"Happy birthday!" Virginie squealed from the arms of her mother. She wore a lilac dress that reminded Genevieve achingly of her own wedding dress. " _Bonne fête! Bonne fête!"_ Emmeline picked up her little sister as Eliza sat down at the table. Breakfast was always a loud event. Alexander sat at the head, hand curling around his wife's. Lafayette and John shared easy smiles as the latter took his son from his shoulders and safely back into his lap before Peggy could scold him.

Surrounded by a gaggle of children was how Genevieve always imagined. "Hey, sister," a voice whispers and the brunette turns to her younger sister. Ettie aged gracefully, only twenty-seven and single. She wrote now, as an aspiring author - truly a profession Genevieve never imagined for her, "Father writes hello, though he is still bedridden. It seems the pneumonia isn't shaking." Genevieve frowned upon hearing this piece of news and Ettie grabbed her hand with hers as oatmeal was set before them.

"Maybe we should visit."

"This day is for your children." Ettie's eyes wrinkle at the corners when she smiles completely. "Do not waste it when you have already missed so much." Kissing her on the cheek, Ettie turned to her breakfast. Bennett, across from the table, sent her a warm smile, and Genevieve wondered when the last time they dined together was.

The birthday twins plus Virginie were causing a loud ruckus and Lafayette's expression could melt the iciest glaciers. Virginie giggled when Georges poked her stomach as Emmeline helped herself to a serving of fresh fruit.

Lafayette's hand found hers. She jolted from her reverie, of examining their current situation and how stark it was compared to where they were.

"It's over now, _mon ange,_ " he said flatly. It was the first thing he had said to her in three days.

She replied, "Not in our dreams." His warm expression fell even when looking at their children. An icy silence fell over them.

 _June 24, 1795_

His coughing was what he said woke him. Genevieve perched on the edge of his bed and read over one of Thomas' letters he had sent from his home to her in Albany. Rubbing the edges between her fingers, she gave him a knowing smile.

"You know that isn't true," she replied, "Father, what did the doctor say?"

"The usual. That my lungs are weak and that I should stay in bed."

"Is Ollie running the tavern?"

"He owns it now." Eyebrows raised, she let the letter drop to her lap. "It has been a long time coming-" He coughed and she rushed to get him some water. Passing him the glass, he tipped the water into his mouth and let out a sigh. "I believe he has earned it."

"He has."

"Have you seen him?" She shook her head and he chuckled raspily. "You should. He was your best friend once."

"He was my only friend once," she corrected, "Are you sure you don't want any chicken soup?"

"Oh, hush. You came here to stress over your old man while all I want to see is my grandchildren. They remind me too much of you." Coughing, he tried to cover his mouth but failed. "I thought I lost you again and you come back from France alive. And as much as I am glad you're back, you are different, sweetheart."

"Remember when I was little and I would crawl into Mom and your's bed after a nightmare? It's kind of like that except Mom isn't here anymore and neither are you. And the nightmare is real. It bleeds into my present and I just see it all the time." Her hand around his, she looked away and tried not to let her throat close up. "Father, if you die, what am I supposed to do?"

"Live on." Lips in a thin line, she allowed a weak smile. "As I have. As your sister and brother have. As everyone else has when they lose someone." Guilt weighing on her mind, she met her father's eyes. "It's not your fault, Genny, but this was not the life I wished for you."

"You wanted me to be happy. And I was." His smile wavered. Hers did as well. The silence had never been so thick with unease as he pulled the covers higher up his chest.

"Does Lafayette make you happy still?"

"Father, we're grateful enough to make out of there alive and to be with our children."

"Does he _make you happy_?" Her thoughts halted, mind coming to a standstill. The mechanical answer, the one automatic to spring to her tongue was ' _Yes.'_ But for some reason, she couldn't make words, her tongue thick in her mouth.

She loved him, yes, but was there any happiness in looking to a man whom you sacrificed everything you never wished to for? Who reminded you of that country who was chaos, who was just as damaged as she now? The very same man who fathered her children, who promised _forever_ , who gave her reasons upon reasons _why_ she sacrificed everything for. Because she loved him and he loved her and that used to be all that mattered, and all the reason needed.

And Genevieve, who used to be just an Alcott running a tavern and then an Alcott who was in the army, free-falling into love with the immigrant who had duties to other countries, was no longer who she was back then and found she could not remember the freedom and happiness as clearly as she could before. Genevieve, now a _marquise_ , a Lafayette, a revolutionary, a politician who had an ensemble of masks for each outing and a mind never at rest, was wiser, yes, but all knowledge comes with a cost.

Sometimes the cost was too steep. Happily ever afters did not exist for them.

"Why don't we wait a while, Father?" she proposed and, understanding, her father laid a hand atop of hers. "The children are waiting." But she did not move to open the door and he did not tell her to. Instead, they just sat in silence and looked at each other. Both older now, sadder, but at the very core, who they were. A father and a daughter. And Genevieve thought, _Sometimes, in the darkest times, that is simply enough._

Then, she asked herself, _Why isn't he enough?_

 _June 30, 1795_

"Father, just hold on." His hand ran cold in hers and his murky gaze met hers. "The doctor will be here soon." His other hand shakily reached for her face and she could hear Ettie crying. By the door, Bennett turned away and walked outside. Tears streaming down her face, she brought it back down, using the hand she held and pressing it to her cheek.

His cheeks are deep ruts, skin pale and yellow as he coughed violently. Blood spilled over his lips and she wiped it away with a cloth.

"Joanne, my love," he breathed and she let out a choked sob. Closing her eyes, she nodded against his hand, "I… it's been so long. You're alive."

"Yes. Yes, I'm alive." His eyes were misty as he smiled in full force. It was bright, despite his blood stained teeth and his heaving chest as she forced a smile. "I'm here. I'm here."

"So long… the world has been so cold…" An ugly sob built up in her throat and she crumpled, letting go of his hand and pressing her face to the bed sheets. Her hands clutched on his elbow as it bent to pat her head. "Sweetheart… it's okay… let me go."

"I can't. I can't!" Falling into silence, her shoulders quaked as his hand rubbed over her brunette curls.

"Genevieve." Lucid, William Alcott lifted his daughter's chin when she raised her head. "Joanne is waiting for me. I cannot leave this world until I know you will promise me you will try. Try… to let me go. Try-" he got cut off by his own failing lungs and he let it take him over. When the fit ended, he sunk into the pillows and she sniffed.

Shattered, she cupped his face and gave a watery smile. Tears streamed into her mouth and everything was hot and blurry, but somehow her words left her mouth, warped but comprehensible.

"I promise I'll try." And he smiled, eyes closing for the last time.

Two hours later, William Alcott stilled and his three children, surrounding him by his bed, broke.

 _August 15, 1795_

She looked at the tombstone as the summer heat bore down on her. The funeral was only days ago and her children were quiet, at home with her siblings as she crouched before it. Her fingers brushed against the dry, unsettled dirt.

 _William Jonathan Alcott_

 _Loving father, son, brother, husband, friend_

 _25 September 1730 - 30 June 1795_

"The world feels much colder now, Father. Is this how it felt when Mother died?" The grass crunched underfoot as she fell into silence. She did not turn but by the shadow cast, she knew. "Hello, Lafayette."

"I thought you'd be more pleased with a surprise visit," he said and she stood up, turning to him. Smoothing over invisible creases, she brushed past him.

"They buried him three days ago. You were invited."

"I didn't think my presence would be welcomed." His words caught her off guard and she froze, turning around. "Your actions made me feel as if unwanted."

"What? Why does it matter if I don't want you there? You should've been there - he considered you a son!"

"It matters because you are my wife! You're distant, you barely eat, you don't talk to me. I do not know who you are or understand why this is happening. I thought in times of despair, it would have been best to come together but all you do is push me away." He grabbed her wrist, face pleading. "Help me understand why."

"Laf-"

"I do not want to lose you again. We promised for better or for worse." She stopped resisting and stared up at him. He looked more like his old self but the same distance in her eyes lingered in his. "And if you do not love me... I cannot survive that."

"Does it not haunt you?" Her voice trembled. "The horrors we have witnessed..."

"But I do not know what you have witnessed. You would not confide in me. Your _husband."_ Tears sprung to her eyes and a choked feeling around her neck made her want to just drop dead. "I love you. Genevieve, do not shut me out." She ripped her wrist away from him, turning away so he could not see the heartache on her face. He wouldn't understand just as she could not understand his pain.

"It is the only choice I have." Lafayette had words on the tip of his tongue but when he saw her wipe away tears, he did not let them spill, opting to follow her around town in hopes that it would be enough.


	31. The War's Still in Me

**A/N: This is heavily centered around the effects of PTSD. If that sort of thing is a trigger, I hope you take your time reading this or do not read at all. Please put your own health first.**

* * *

 **Chapter 31: The War's Still in Me**

 _August 16, 1795_

"Do you still love me?" He asked as she set the apple back into the stand. Walking to the clerk, she set her basket upon the table and began unloading the items. Her green eyes flickered to his dark ones. Paying quickly, she exited the shop and made her way up to the Hamilton home.

"Yes," she said at last and he nodded to himself. "I will always love you." A tired expression settled upon their faces. A couple, fresh-faced and sweet, kiss on the park as she walked through the garden park. Lafayette eyed them, she knew, just as she watched a man present a woman with a bouquet of flowers.

"Will you share our bed tonight?" he asked.

"I think more time in my old room will do us both good." Her voice was hoarse from screaming. So was his. She wondered if the children heard their late night shout matches, ones not aimed at each other, but at memories that played behind closed eyes and paused for the morning. He sighed and she knew he would sleep in John's old room.

"I'm trying to help you."

"There's nothing that can be helped. As you said, that time in our life is over." She didn't know what the hell she was supposed to do. He tugged at the stray thread on his sleeve. Allowing herself to breathe, she asked, "Has Washington written to you?"

"No. Has he to you?"

"Probably too scared to." His snort of amusement caused her lips to twitch before settling back into her stoic demeanor. "I was planning to visit him in a week's time. I was speaking to Thomas about arranging a trip." Lafayette's brow scrunched up in confusion and she turned to watch the confusion cross his face.

"Strange, he spoke to me of the same trip." Clenching her jaw, Genevieve rolled her eyes. "If you do not want me to go-"

"No. No, you go. I will watch after the children." Forcing a slight smile, she focused her eyes back on the road before her. "Enjoy your time with our President."

"I am sure I will do the exact opposite."

"You will forgive him, I know it." Her tone is clipped and his gaze fell to the dirt. She knew him too well. "Do not forgive him on my behalf." His lips in a thin line, he responded.

"I would not dare dream of it."

 _August 25, 1795_

"Lafayette, welcome-"

"Spare your pleasantries, George." Lafayette knew in another world, Genevieve would have been in this room with him. Perhaps in this other world, the United States would have lended aid instead of leaving them stranded, and him on the brink of a destroyed marriage. "I just need a place to stay, away from all of this." George Washington set the papers in his hands down and frowned, standing up.

"Away from your wife? You two were attached at the hip." He thought himself funny but Lafayette was not in a gaming mood. He tugged his coat tighter around himself and stared down the man.

"We're estranged."

"Really?" Washington made a sound between guilt and surprise. Lafayette wanted to retract the statement right away.

"Love cannot overcome all barriers, it seems." His hands rolled into fists. "Do you have a place to stay, or no?"

"Of course."

.

"Where's Papa gone?" Virginie asked as Genevieve tucked her into bed. The brunette smiled down at her daughter and booped her nose.

"On a trip."

"When will he be back?"

"Soon," she lied.

 _September 4, 1795_

"You talk to her." Eliza turned upon hearing Peggy whisper those words into her ear. "She's lonely."

"Did it make any difference when Lafayette was here?" the woman asked, turning away from the sight of Genevieve staring out the window in the drawing room. Virginie was practicing piano with little James. "Where's Philip?"

"Out with the twins and Alexander. He wanted to take Emmeline away from this. It's sweet."

"So they know what's wrong."

"They have for a long time." Peggy sighed, the hollow feeling in her chest growing when Genevieve was pulled from wherever her mind was to pay attention to her daughter. "They're perceptive children - where do you think they get that from?" The tears that sprung into her eyes was unexpected and Eliza walked down the hall, clutching the necklace around her neck. Peggy watched her sister go before turning back to Genevieve. She was speaking to her daughter who returned back to the piano, playing merrily. There was a ghostly smile upon her face but nothing more.

The playing wasn't playing - it resembled more like an incessant banging of the keys and Peggy winced, entering the room and sitting on a _chaise_ nearby. Genevieve turned to smile at her but didn't offer any greeting as a shrill something that should've been a chord resonated throughout the room.

"Very good, darling," Genevieve gushed, applauding. Dark circles nearly swallowed out her eyes and Peggy reached for her just as she stood up abruptly. "Mama needs to go take a nap. Keep practicing and tell Aunt Peggy if you're hungry, alright?" Virginie deflated a bit but kept a smile on her face.

"Okay, Mama. I promise."

"Thank you. Peggy, can you…"

"Of course." The strength in Virginie's eyes made Peggy want to wrap their whole family in a hug. To think they came back to America only to be divided even more. Virginie was trying too hard to help her own mother with something she couldn't understand.

.

"Is he alright?" Martha asked a question George didn't know the answer to. As he watched the French man on their spare bed stare at the wall, he felt the weight of guilt on his mind and his shoulders. _He helped cause this._

"I don't know." He rubbed his temple, preparing himself to go in. "Prepare for dinner - I'll try and talk to him." His wife's lips pressed into a thin line as if she doubted him - and to be frank, George doubted himself - but she turned towards the kitchen as the President entered the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he placed a hand on Lafayette's arm. Immediately, a hand wrapped around his wrist and had him pinned against the bed, knife pressed against his neck. "Calm down, son. I don't think the world will take kindly to murdering the first President of our new country."

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, teeth bared in a growl.

"Lafayette, you're in America. You're not there anymore." The knife didn't move but his muscles tensed as George put his hands beside his head, showing he wasn't an enemy. He waited, watching as Lafayette blinked, eyes wet with tears as he let go of the knife, inhaling shakily. George gently pushed him off, and took the knife. Lafayette took a big gulp of air as if he'd been suffocated for so long and George sat up beside him, patting his back.

"I apologize." His voice is thick with tears as Lafayette wiped at his eyes. "I didn't realize what I was doing and… I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. Son, are you sure you don't want to see your wife?"

"She doesn't want to see me," he gritted out.

"That's not what I asked."

.

George got Lafayette to write a letter. When the President wasn't looking, Lafayette tore it to pieces.

 _October 26, 1795_

It took around a month before Lafayette could garner the courage to get out of bed. There was something soothing about the responsibility-free environment of the Washington household. Mrs. Washington cooked, the children were cared for, and he could do whatever he wanted. So he read, took walks, slept. When he tried to pick up a fencing sword, his hand shook. When he thought of his wife, the warmth that once inhabited his chest was cold. Over time, the fire would return until it burned him up as it once did, decades ago. George said that he was out now, whenever he bawled his eyes out over the war he couldn't save his country from.

There was a semblance of hope in his eyes as he began to pack his bags. And then it came crashing down upon him - the thought of returning to a city with prying eyes, his children, _his wife._ There were loud noises in that city, with too many people asking if he was okay. Here, he was secluded and everyone already knew he wasn't. In that city, his wife was there with the same haunted look in his eyes and she sapped his energy because it was always he who was optimistic and he thought she needed him. But even optimists lose their hope and it turned out that it was he who needed her.

When George came by to tell him that his carriage was ready, he instead found Lafayette's room strewn with clothes thrown everywhere and the man himself on his bed, staring at nothing. All progress made was lost.

It took around a month before Genevieve had to be seen by a doctor for insomnia. There was something stressing about having to take care of three children alone. It wasn't like she wasn't used to it but now that she was out of this war, she thought there could be some happily ever afters for some parts of her. She cooked, listened to Virginie's impromptu piano recitals and always made sure to listen to Emmeline about her boy problems, and Georges when he gushed on and on about some girl named Theodosia. In the back of her mind, she realized that Theodosia was a name of her past.

The fire she once had for her husband extinguished and some cold part of her wanted him to stay gone because when she looked at him, she saw the parts of her lost. But every other inch of her wanted him back. Her body needed him like how lungs needed air, her heart wanting him like how flowers wanted the sun. But her mind was too tired, as if all these years on high alert have shaved off every bit of sanity she had left. She wandered around the home like a ghost. She cried like a banshee. She hated herself. She hated this. Eliza told her that she was out of the war as if it would help her.

" _But the war's still in me."_

The doctor told her to remove herself from stressing environments. Genevieve didn't know how to tell him that to remove herself from a stressing environment was to remove herself from her children. She didn't know how to tell him that she couldn't bare to part with them again when her father died and her siblings lived cities away. How could she look into the eyes of a doctor who knew nothing, and tell him that to leave her children was to leave the best parts of her husband behind?

 _December 25, 1795_

Eliza told the children not to bother Genevieve who was still asleep after a whole twenty four hours of lying in bed. The twins told their siblings in all but blood that their mother needed rest. Virginie, only five, began to cry upon not being allowed to see her but Emmeline had to firmly tell her younger sister that only the adults were allowed in.

"It's Christmas!"

"And Christmas is a time for family. Virginie, you have to understand that Mama isn't feeling well, okay? Go play with James and Magda, we'll keep watch over her." The small child pouted, running away and Georges sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His nose was red and runny, his eyes rimmed red. He looked at his twin sister and inhaled a shuddering breath before puffing out his chest and placing the facade of strength before him like a shield.

.

The doctor left the room, joining the adults in the drawing room. Hercules closed the door after him.

"Go get some rest, alright?" he addressed the twins who had sat by their mother's door for the better half of the morning, "Eat, do something fun. You can't watch your mother every minute."

"Yes, Uncle Hercules." Georges wiped at his face as Emmeline responded. The two looked much smaller than they were. Hercules crouched down, opening his arms and the two walked into his hug before pulling away all too soon. The tailor watched them go, worry etched all over his face as he descended the stairs and entered the drawing room. He knew they would not heed his orders. They were too perceptive for their own good. Leaning against the archway, he saw the doctor adjust his spectacles.

"It's a sort of post-traumatic stress." John Laurens leaned back in the chair as the doctor spoke. Peggy grasped his hand while Alexander came into the room, a tray of tea in his hands. "The war still lives within her and her mind cannot seem to move past the fact that she is no longer in that environment. She is unable to adjust, and, therefore, is in a constant state of stress."

"So, now what?" The desperate inflection of Alexander's voice made them all direct their intense focus on the doctor. He cleared his throat.

"Her body is in a constant state of thinking that it'll be attacked. It's eating her up inside and her systems are struggling to keep up. I believe that right now, she is in a coma-like state to prevent herself from shutting down completely. She is awake, but her mind is not truly there."

"What can we do?"

"You need to remove the stressors - things that have caused her or have amplified stress. You must be attentive to taking care of her. There will be certain lapses where she'll be lucid and she'll need to know what is going on. Do not sugarcoat it, but do not whack her with it like your words are a pan. When she awakes, she'll probably be disoriented. That is when you call me. I will personally take over in helping her with a behavioral therapy."

"And she'll be cured?" Eliza asked. The doctor chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.

"Mrs. Hamilton, there is no cure for post-traumatic stress disorder. At best, she will live her life free as long as she avoids triggers. At worst, she will die an early death."

.

"What are you thinking of right now, Lafayette?" The French man stared at the doctor at the end of the bed from where he was leaning against the headboard, bundled up in blankets. His eyes were red, nose runny, and his throat felt bruised, yet he still found the will to answer.

"I don't think. They just attack me."

"Who is 'they'?"

"My thoughts."

"What do they tell you?"

 _They are a mess. A web of tangents that attack me all at once with different kinds of poison. I will pick the best for you, Doctor._ "They tell me that Genevieve hates me. That my children detest me for leaving them for so long. They call me a bad husband." Lafayette cleared his throat, trying to stay manly although there was no point. "They name me a terrible father."

"Those are negative thoughts, Lafayette. You need to know that they're not what's true." The doctor wrote something down as Lafayette turned to look out the window. "Tell me why these thoughts hurt you."

"It's obvious, is it not? No man wants to be a bad father or an absent husband." The softness of the pillows made his insides coil. He didn't want to live this life of plush comfort. He needed something harder, something sharp and natural and fresh and cold.

"But it hurts you more than you wish to admit."

"I had a choice." He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. "I didn't have to go back to France."

"You did. The King ordered for your return."

"But I didn't." His fists clenched as a suffocating feeling settled on his chest, making oxygen tight. "I didn't have to drag my family into it."

"You couldn't have known-"

"But I should have! I should have. They are everything to me and I let them down." He was sick of this feeling but lacked the energy to move. The feeling that he wasn't good enough weighed down on him and he felt without Genevieve's eyes on him, that he didn't have to be strong for her anymore. Shoulders falling, he felt everything tilt as his sobs wracked his body. "I should've been better."

"No one can be 'better' for a future they didn't know was going to happen." The doctor sighed in sympathy but the sound of it made Lafayette want to throw up. "Lafayette, you must be able to reason with these thoughts. That is the key to recovery."

"How do you know?"

"I've worked with many veterans before. You are no different." Standing up, the doctor slipped his little book into his bag. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow. For now, I recommend that you gather your strength to get out of bed regularly. I think that that is a good start on your road to recovery."


	32. Monticello

**WARNINGS: Depression, PTSD**

* * *

January _25, 1796_

A month of nothingness spurred Thomas Jefferson into action. He kicked down the door of the Hamilton house and stormed up the stairs, disregarding any looks the children gave him or how Mulligan seemed to shoot him a look of concern.

Hamilton was still at the office so he took this chance to do what was right.

"Mr. Jefferson?" Eliza Hamilton caught his attention, just exiting the room that was his destination.

"I'm taking her out of here. She's not _getting better._ " Thomas barged into the room, Eliza stepping out of the way. Genevieve looked up, green eyes hazy. It was almost as if she were stuck in a daze. Her hair was ashen, twisted up to a knot to keep it free from her face, and she looked freshly cleaned. Eliza's doing. At least they were taking care of her in the ways the could. Thomas opened her closet, taking out the bags that were underneath the hanging dresses. Tossing them onto the end of the bed, he ripped the bags open and began shoving different kinds of clothes in - dresses, corsets, shifts, everything he could get his hands on.

"Mr. Jefferson, the doctor-"

"The doctor said a non-stressful environment, right? I'm moving her to Monticello."

"You can't. Her children are here! The last thing she wants is for them to be separated." Eliza placed a hand on the man's arm. That caused some pause and his dark eyes darted to meet hers. She was taken aback by the ferocity that lied within them.

"Mrs. Hamilton, with all due respect, there is no healing in this home," he said bitingly. "I'm taking the children with me and will be hiring private tutors for them. You don't need to worry." Snapping the first bag closed, he glanced at his friend who still laid mentally dormant on the bed.

"Thomas-"

"If you could ask the children to prepare to leave, then we'll be on our way by evening." He nodded to Eliza who could only stare. "Mrs. Hamilton, do I need to do everything by myself?"

"You need to think this through."

"I have," he cut her off, throwing an icy look over his shoulder. "I have waited patiently to see if she'd get better. It has been weeks and there is no signs that she is going to get better. Hamilton's incompetence has led him to inaction. I am not one to do the same."

"Thomas?" A hoarse voice interrupted his tirade. There was something scratchy to Genevieve's voice but Thomas immediately relaxed at the warm timbre it held. "What are you doing here?"

"Come on, Genny. You're gonna come visit me in the countryside." Thomas forced a smile as Genevieve sat up, blinking at him as if she'd never seen him before. Perhaps she hadn't seen anyone in a long time. "Would you like that?"

"I live here," she said.

"Just a small visit. There are fig trees and horses—" Thomas' smile was genuine when Genevieve's green eyes lit up— "Would you like that? Emmeline and Georges need to learn how to ride a horse."

"And Virginie," Genevieve rasped and Thomas let out a relieved chuckle. He wanted to cry but he didn't want to forsake his pride in front of his opponent's wife. "Virginie will want to learn."

"Virginie, too," he agreed and she gazed at him in surprise when a tear slid down his cheek.

"Why are you crying, Thomas? Have I been gone long?"

"Far longer than you ever should've been, Genny," he said and her smile flickered. "But you're back. That's what matters."

 _February 27, 1795_

"Better now?" Genevieve asked as she helped her daughter sit on the saddle. After weeks of watching Emmeline and Georges prance around on their own horses, Virginie had badgered their mother until she gave in. Seated on an old, tempered mare, Virginie nodded. It was much higher than she'd imagined. "Good, now hold the reins. I'll be here if you fall."

"When's Papa going to come see us? I miss him," Virginie said. Genevieve's smile flickered and she stroked her daughter's thigh absently. Kissing her tiny hand, the brunette turned to look up at her daughter. Ahead, Emmeline and Georges raced each other over the hills near Monticello. "Are you mad at him?"

"No, of course not," assured Genevieve. The mare started off at a slow walk and she made sure her daughter was stable as she lead the horse around. Thomas was off watching her other children and all Genevieve wanted to do was look at her youngest. She was the one who looked most like him. Despite what everyone ever said about Georges, Virginie had his face and hair and mannerisms more than Georges ever would. When she looked into her children's faces, she saw herself and her brother and sister and her father, and she could see her husband too. But when she looked at Virginie, Lafayette was all she saw.

"Then, how come he doesn't stay with us anymore?"

"We were sick," Genevieve began, unknowing how to explain war to a five-year-old. She'd be turning six nearing the end of the year. She could remember the night she smuggled them out of France like yesterday. "He needed to get help. I needed to get help."

"But you're better now, right?" Virginie pressed, leaning forward on her saddle. Stopping, Genevieve waited until she sat back up. Then, she lead the mare around again. "Papa can come home, right?"

"Papa is staying with his friend. I can't ask him to come home. He won't listen."

Thomas and her two eldest came, rounding the hill and Emmeline immediately took to Virginie on a saddle, eyes sparkling. _You have his eyes,_ Genevieve mourned the loss of his eyes. Sometimes, she couldn't even remember what he looked like. _He had a scar underneath his eye,_ she remembered as Georges stopped, watching Emmeline and Virginie ride around the grounds. _You have his spirit._ Georges had the hug of his father. When she tucked her children at night, Georges hugged her goodnight. It made her heart hollow and ache.

"You should follow them, sweetling. Make sure they don't get in trouble," Genevieve told Georges who flashed a smile before trotting after them. Turning back to where her own horse was, she pushed herself up into the saddle. The feeling of leather was so familiar, back when times were simpler. Châtain nickered and Genevieve stroke her old mount's mane. It'd been far too long since they rode together. Just another reminder of the man she loved.

"You look remarkably better, Genny," Thomas remarked. Châtain stepped in place, pawing the ground as she picked up the reins. The man briefly touched her knuckles before gazing off to where he could see her children helping their youngest sibling ride. "Do you like it here, in Monticello?"

"I do. It's… quiet. Peaceful. I never meant to impose on you," she added quietly and Thomas shook his head.

"I'm never here anyhow. Always in the capital with meetings and other boring matters." He lifted his chin, feeling the breeze curl against his neck. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. My home is yours."

Genevieve smiled, sad but full, and then she turned to her friend and said, "I need to write a letter."

 _March 3,1795_

"Lafayette, a letter for you."

Turning away from the window, Lafayette smiled at Martha and took the letter. The paper was crisp and he could see where the nib dug into it.

"Who is it from?"

"You'll want to read for yourself."

Unfolding it, he heard the door click close just as the breath was stolen from his body. Written completely in French, Lafayette couldn't help but smile at the minor grammatical errors. After all, his wife learnt spoken French, and did not often have the chance to write. His heart thudded in his chest and he felt numb as his eyes raked over the paper. It smelt like wind and winter, just as his love did.

 _Lafayette, my husband, my love,_

 _It's been so long. The children miss you. They've learnt how to ride horses, though Virginie insists on riding on her own. Emmeline has stitched her first dress. She wore it to her first party a week ago at Monticello. It is where we stay now. Georges had a short-lived victory over his sparring tutor. Thomas employed the best for our children._

 _I wish you are here to see it. And you should be. I miss you. I will always love you. Come to Monticello._

 _Come home to our children._

 _I promise, we can fix this. Perhaps, one day, we will be able to look into one another's eyes without seeing war. Until then, I wish for you._

 _You don't have to come. I've treated you horribly these past few months, but know that Monticello is where I stay now._

 _Yours forever,_

 _Genevieve_

Lafayette packed his bags and wrote his response to Thomas Jefferson, praying to whatever God could hear that he'd receive it before Lafayette arrived unannounced.

 _March 12, 1795_

Lafayette knocked on the door, palms sweaty and he had the most bittersweet smile on his face. He remembered the first day he met his wife. He had prayed that his hand wasn't so sweaty she'd be disgusted. How long ago that was.

The door opened and he was met with the scruffy face of Virginie.

"Papa!" Her shriek did not go unnoticed by anyone of any sort inside the house and a smattering of footsteps followed. Dropping his bag, he caught his daughter as she jumped into his arms as Emmeline barrelled into him out of nowhere, followed by Georges. All of them were in a state of dirt or wet and he grimaced and smiled when his hand carded through Emmeline's wet locks.

"Papa, you're back!" Emmeline held onto him tightest — Daddy's Little Girl — and Lafayette bent over to kiss her head just as new hands found their way onto his shoulders. When he looked up, he met the green eyes of his wife. They were clear as crystal, and wet with unshed tears.

He hadn't even realized he was crying until she hugged him so tight around the neck. With his free hand, he clutched onto the shirt off her back. Sobbing into her shoulder, he buried his face into her as she whispered words he didn't bother to hear. Her warmth was so familiar that their children had long parted when Lafayette could finally form words in her hold. Emmeline and Georges smiled to each other, then took Virginie back inside.

As he stood on the veranda, he could feel his heart causing the earthquake in his bones as he cupped his wife's face. She sniffed, sobbing whilst she laughed and embraced him again. Words could not define this moment for them.

"Are you going to stay?" she asked at last, voice thick and he pulled back, forehead against hers. She looked younger, well-rested, and healthy. She looked alive.

Lafayette exhaled in relief, then nodded. "I will, if you will allow me."

"It's good here," she whispered, arms looped around his neck still. She shook in his grasp, still sobbing a bit but her smile was as beautiful as the spring flowers and he wanted to kiss her. He felt young again. "We should stay."

"We will," he promised. Her hand slid to his face, cupping his cheek as her eyes searched him for something. "What is it?" he murmured and she let out a silly chuckle.

"I'd forgotten what you looked like, and now, when I see you here, I wonder how that could have happened," she whispered. His fingers trailed her jaw and her chin, the cheekbones, the arch of her neck. Everything about her was so real — so detached from the woman he knew. Time away did them well. The country was good. This was the life they always deserved and now, it was here. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He gently held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and his eyes flickered from her gaze to her lips. "May I kiss you, my love?"

"Always."

 _July 18, 1796_

Healing was so slow. It always was. One did not simply wake up one day, deciding they were whole and well again. No, Lafayette knew. It was walking into castle ruins and having the courage to pick up the first brick, to put out the fire, to take out all the slag and burnt carnage. It was understanding that it would never be as it was before, but learning that you can build something stronger.

Lafayette knew healing was slow, but it got easier to wake up in the morning when his wife was there to greet him. He never understood how he had spent so long away, out of her arms, but he knew it was needed.

"Good morning," mumbled a drowsy Genevieve. They'd just taken to morning talks again after years of separation. His first nights at Monticello was in a room across the hall from hers, until they'd decided that maybe they could try again. Lafayette now relished every moment he had with her. He should be grateful there was another chance for them. Running a knuckle down her back, Lafayette turned to look at his wife.

" _Bonjour._ "

Wrinkling her nose, she turned away from the sunlight as she lay there on her stomach, wreathed in sheets and blankets. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her neck before tossing the covers over her, heading to get dressed.

"Lafayette?"

"Hm?"

"When do you think we'll be able to go back to the city?" They had gotten comfortable in the farming hills of Monticello, but it was a long way from home. Lafayette didn't say anything, merely tied up his shirt and pulled up his pants. "You don't think we should?"

"I thought you hated Washington."

"But I miss my sisters. And my brother." Genevieve turned and sat up, crossing her legs. "Don't you think the children ought to see something other than rolling hills?" Lafayette sighed, knowing his wife had a point. The private tutors could teach them all they wanted, but real life would be a better teacher.

Crawling back onto the bed, he looked up at his wife from where he propped himself up on his elbows. Dark circles were under her eyes, but they were better from last week. It was a bad month for them, he supposed, but they took it as it came. Bad weeks usually meant late night tea and early mornings on the roof. Lafayette didn't mind all that much, with her and the children.

"Are you sure you want to now?"

"Especially now." Her lips pressed together in a way that made him know that there was no changing her mind and he smiled, kissing her hand.

"Then, we'll go."

"I must start writing them!" Genevieve moved to get out of bed but Lafayette caught her wrist. "What?" Sitting there, the brunette ran her hand through his messy hair as he leaned forward to peck the tiny bump on her stomach. "Laf." Her voice was fond.

" _Ma petite étoile,_ " Lafayette whispered, "did you hear? We will be traveling soon."

"Oh, Bennett and Ettie don't even know yet."

"Despite their numerous letters that we've failed to respond to," he retorted, getting up again. "I am surprised your sister hasn't come down herself."

"She's working on her newest book. The inspiration will leave her," Genevieve said with a shrug just as their door was nearly banged in. Sharing amused glances, Lafayette and Genevieve both got up — Genevieve to get dressed, Lafayette to open the door.

"Time for breakfast!" announced Virginie, taking hold of her father's hand as Genevieve slipped on a shirt. Combing her fingers through her hair, she sighed at the useless tangle it was and let her youngest daughter drag her and her husband to the dining room where Emmeline and Georges awaited.

 **A/N: I haven't given up. More to come.**


End file.
